The Nonsense Of Fools
by Vixen2004
Summary: Gippal is plenty slutty to have enough grandkids to start his own third world nation. The day that man starts preaching abstinence is the day I eat my own weight in Shoopuff turd. He gets happy in his pants over grapefruits. [We're platonic. Really.]
1. Prolouge

First of all, let it be known that Gippal is a pathological liar who will do anything to get a free beer or into the pants of a woman.

No, I am not exaggerating. _Please_. I am so sick of getting that _look_. The look that says, without really saying, of course, _because gods forbid you have the balls to say it_, that I am an over reactive teenage girl who is running on hormones and Mountain Dew and perhaps I should go get my head checked because no one is really as slutty as I say Gippal is. Come _on_ now. The guy practically has _Man Whore_ written across his forehead in big, bold letters framed in neon to match. The day Gippal preaches abstinence will be the day I eat my own weight in broken glass and Shoopuff turd. The man must utilize fool proof condoms or _something_, because as far as I am concerned, he should have enough grandkids to start his own third world nation, a hierarchy system and all. Also; he should be dying of AIDS by now. Perhaps Syphilis, if one wants to get technical. AIDS isn't too common among the Al Bhed, but I doubt Gippal's sexcapades are limited to only involve those of his own race. Or gender. _Ha_. Gippal the bisexual. Now there's a picture. Remind me to bring that up with him one day. There is absolutely nothing I enjoy more than watching his face go through all the shades found in the color wheel. Hee hee. Purple's my favorite. Though fuchsia is amusing, too.

So, Gippal being a gigolo aside, I feel the need to point out where this story all began.

"Rikku will you marry me?"

Well, technically that was where the story _ended_.

And it was Baralai who spoke those words, not Gippal. Gippal just piddled in his pants from laughing. Yeah, I got you there, didn't I? _Didn't I_? You thought Gippal and I would start out by hating each other, go on some epic, melodramatic quest where we would be forced together under inevitable circumstances and cruel misfortune, and somewhere along the line we would begin to open up to each other, perhaps I would convince the pimp of the century to settle down and he would convince the caffeine addict of the millennium to be secure with herself or some cheesy Hallmark bull crap like that (even though I cease to wear a shirt that doesn't mean I am actually _comfortable_ with the skin I'm in. That just means I dehydrate easily. Anyway.) He would then destroy our newfound relationship by predictably cheating on me with a one night stand, which I would inadvertently catch him in, and I would proceed to run off and angst about it for some couple hours until I couldn't bare the misery anymore and run off to do something highly illogical and dangerous (most likely life threatening.) That is when Gippal swoops in and wipes me off my feet or some such nonsense, for the man couldn't pull romance out of his butt if he tried—he thinks a six pack of beer and a pile of machina is sexually stimulating—and I would fall into his lanky spaghetti arms and woo accordingly, forgiving him of all his past transgressions and agreeing to marry the manorexic out of love and adoration. Then we'd go off and make babies.

For the love of all things sacred, _that_ _burns_. Not the stereotype, but the making babies part. _Ewie_!

And besides, telling Gippal he can't cheat on you is like telling the belated Seymour to go a week without his Botox. Just not gonna happen. I know this, I acknowledge it, and I accept it. I have no gross misconceptions concerning the latter.

"Oh dear Farplane gods," Gippal hyperventilated, keeling over and clutching his sides like he was in process of repressing vomit. "Are you _serious_?"

I remember glaring at him quite vehemently.

"Ya know, it wouldn't hurt my self esteem any for you to get jealous."

"Why would I be jealous?" Gippal spat out between fits of hysteria. "Let him have you, for all I care. The heck am I gonna do with a girl like you anyway? _Oh_ _gods_...Barali? _Ha_! Aw, holy hell, I think I just wet myself..."

He actually did, but I was unaware of the phenomenon until it actually started to seep through his pants. At that point I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

But anyhow. I am getting ahead of myself.

I guess this really all started when we received word from the ever formal Baralai via letter (a hand written letter, _can you believe it_? I mean, we live in a world of movie spheres and email where I could forward the entire continent Gippal's home made sex video with Nhadala in a matter of _nano_seconds, faster than you could say 'Tidus looks like Meg Ryan!'—well, minus the eyelashes—and then there's legalistic ol' Baralai, commiserating with us through the archaic art of calligraphy and paper. So archaic, in fact, that Nhadala didn't even know what to do with the chocobo messenger when he gallivanted up to her, severely malnourished—compliments of the Bakinel Desert—and panted a greeting that went something along the lines of 'I have a letter from Senior Baralai for citizens Rikku and Gippal—can we please have some water before we die?' Nhadala, flabbergasted, has been told to have charged into our primitive remodeling of Home, screaming and shouting and hollering for medical supplies and first aid kits and water. Gippal muttered, off hand, to me since I was the unlucky bystander that was within his proximity at the time, 'The only time she ever screamed that loud was when she was in bed with me.' I distinctly remember shoving him in the chest, trying to get his leering face out of mine and his perpetual minty fresh breath out of my nose. He pretended to be mortally wounded, of course, the attention whore that he is, and I responded by kicking him once he fell down, hands splayed across his chest, wildly proclaiming I had broken all twelve of his ribs. I asked him if there really were twelve ribs in the human body, and he replied 'I dunno, Twit. I just made that up.' I kicked him again for good measure. Anyway.)

"Baralai is such a nerd," Gippal continued once the messenger and corresponding chocobo had been taken care of. The two had caused enough commotion to make one think Paine had finally decided to come out of the closet and was engaging in a promiscuous mud wrestling match with a scantily clad Shelinda. Because that's _all_ we need; every man with an ounce of testosterone in his body to stand and stare slack jawed, eyes glazed like doughnuts and tonsils merrily on display, as Paine ripped off the two items of clothing—er, leather—that she actually _wears_ so she could gain better access to Shelinda's jugular. I'm sure even Tidus would stop salivating over Yunie, in all of her size two glory, long enough to watch _that_. Gippal, predictably, would go all happy in the pants because I know just like I know the sky is blue and the grass is green and Nooj is a psycho half robot who can probably no longer fornicate that Gippal will get excited over anything that even _vaguely_ resembles a bosom. He got horny over grapefruits once, I swear. All he has to do is see something fleshy and voluptuous and already the aeon inside his pants starts summoning. (I believe its overdrive is called something along the lines of 'Dance Of The Seed.')

Ahem. Where was I? Oh, yes. Gippal. Ranting. Imagine that.

"He nearly got a human being, not to mention that overgrown canary, killed over a measly piece of paper decorated in his _oh so formal_ hand writing."

"Chocobo," I corrected, smacking Gippal on the back of the head. "They're called chocobos, you retard."

Gippal has always housed a simmering, unyielding hatred for the large feathered birds of Spira. He has never told me why, but they freak him out on multiple levels for reasons unknown to mankind. I attribute his traumatic past experiences to probably something well deserved on his part and consequently enjoy throwing anything chocobo related into his unblemished face without even the slightest trace of mercy.

He usually pays me back with a Thundera spell of some sort, since he is too dense and too thick skulled to bother learning Thunderaga. Every time I have actually tried to teach him, out of the kindness of my ever so gigundo times ten to the billionth power heart (lest he be attacked by some water bearing fiend one day, of course. I _so_ do not want to be held accountable for his untimely demise even if he really has had it coming to him for oh so very, very long) he always scoffs at my insisting, 'It will only take two hours of your life, tops!' He does his infamous eye roll that he is ever so notorious for—which I always found funny considering he only has one eye; I wonder if his eye socket twitches when he does it—and retorts, 'And those are two hours of my life I could actually spend doing something important. Like inventing a cure for cancer or something.' Puh-_lease_. Gippal wouldn't know the difference between Advil and Morphine if it shot him in the ass. The apocalypse is nigh the day Gippal starts inventing cures for terminally fatal diseases, much less malignant tumors even those New Yevonite dorks can't figure out.

"I _know_ they're chocobos, _alright_? I don't like them, dammit."

We were meandering across the still pretty messed up streets of Home, which was still under heavy construction (I swear, one of these days I am going to cark it 'cuz of smoke inhalation or lung cancer or _something_. I never understood Cid's dire need to live in the remnants of Home while it was still being rebuilt, but hey, the man feeds me, so I guess I can't complain.) We were trying to make it back to my place, the unlikely duo that we were, me making sure to stay six inches away from him at all times, lest he tries to grope me or something, when I abruptly brought up, since I knew Gippal was _far_ from capable of intelligent conversation, "Aren't you, like, supposed to be at the Djose Temple running the Machine Faction or something?"

"Ah," he dismissed, waving his hand aimlessly in front of him as if to swat at imaginary flies. "Trivial matters, by dear Rikku. Don't worry your pretty little head off about it. I've got my co-captain running the show in my absence. Besides, every man needs a break once in a while, no?"

"Gippal," I dead panned, trying hard—oh so _very,_ _very_ hard—not to face palm at his inquisition. "You hardly ever did anything while you _were_ working there. The heck do you need a break for?"

Good job, me! You are learning to accept Gippal's innate stupidity! Next we'll tackle that nasty nail biting habit of yours.

Gippal paused for a minute, contemplating my previous inquisition as we sauntered on through the dust and grime I had grown accustomed to after spending the last nineteen years of my life in the desert. It stung my eyes and tickled my throat and I was _thoroughly_ convinced I was going to be sent to the Farplane with two lungs full of cancer and an IV of chemo to match. Just because I'm used to the place doesn't mean I have to _like_ it. Blegh! _Sand_! I have always had a personal attraction to Kilika, believe it or not, but Pops was all like, 'Rikku, my girl, you need to get your skinny little white ass back here 'cuz we're finally starting to rebuild Home and I'll be damned if I don't have my own children back here helping me!' Yup, that was Pops. You gotta love him.

Of course, Brother characteristically refused, still bitter about that final feud they had right before his permanent departure. I'm still not sure what it was about, but knowing them and their natural affinity to be both incredibly moronic and incredibly stubborn all at the same time, it wouldn't surprise me in the least if it was over something stupid, like monkey livers. Or socks. They could have argued about socks. It wouldn't surprise me. So, needless to say, Brother took the Celsius and Buddy with him after he dropped me off—more like kicked me out on my hindquarters spinning, but I'm pretty sure that's the way Mom delivered me, so it's all good—and I made my way back to the new little make shift home my father was currently occupying.

"Well, how about 'cuz I just saved the world?" Gippal remarked keenly, interrupting my train of thought.

I shook my head back and forth, sending blond strands orbiting around my head.

"Wait, did you just say _you_ saved the world?" I repeated, wondering how brain dead the man really was.

"Damn straight I did," he confirmed, supplying me with a hearty nod. "I totally kicked Vegnagun right in his shiny metal ass."

"_Nu-uh_!" I spat, sticking my tongue out and immediately regretting the habitual action because of the insane amount of grime permeating the place. I will _never_ know what inspired the Al Bhed to live here—much less my father who is anal enough to complain when the ice cubes in his tomato juice melt before he is done drinking it. 'Oh, look, a desert just chock full of deadly, scowering fiends who eat, breathe, and live for the pursuit of human flesh. It's hot enough to melt the skin off your bones and boil your spit before it hits the ground. If you spend longer than three point two seconds out in the sun unprotected you'll get sixth degree burns all over your body. Not to mention the view of the ever captivating...sand dunes. Oh, and the social aspects aren't too shabby either—we're miles and miles and miles away from any human/ronso/guado/Toblie/yevonite soul. In fact, we may even learn to embrace the mental disorder of schizophrenia, because then at least we could talk to ourselves!' Yeah. I can _totally_ see the draw to this island. "You assisted, at the _least_! Yuna, Paine, and I were the ones that did all the ass kicking!"

"Shhh, don't tell Nhadala that," Gippal hissed, looking over his bony shoulder. "That's how I got her into bed with me!"

I snorted in disgust and tried to quicken my pace so as to get away from Gippal, who was tagging along behind me. The man could never walk in a straight line, it was practically blasphemous to think he could. He always navigated like liquid steel, fluid and agile yet sturdy and strong—which I still can't figure out 'cuz gods know the man has no muscle to speak of and only half a brain cell, so why the Crimson Squad even hired him to begin with is beyond me—and right now he was staggering over to my side to try and catch a glimpse of the letter I was holding in between my fingers.

"Gippal, I already told you, I'm not opening it until I show it to Pops! This could be important!"

"Yeah," he buffed, scratching his neck in response. "So important, in fact, Baralai didn't want to send it through email and resorted to slave labor instead, because we all know chocobos are faster than cyberspace."

"The guy's old fashioned, Gippal. I'm sure you knew this." I paused, then decided to venture down the path of sarcasm, which I'm sure would not go unappreciated by my partner, assuming he had enough brain cells left after all that alcohol consumption to pick up on it. "Hey! Maybe he's _so_ old fashioned, he even practices that long forgotten concept of chivalry!"

"Chival-what?" Gippal repeated, though I couldn't tell if he was intentionally trying to be difficult or if he really was as brain dead as I had previously thought. "There you go again, spouting those nonsensical ideas of romance you've had lodged in your head ever since the second grade."

"Excuse me for thinking I'm worthy of a little respect," I miffed out, sticking my ski slope nose high in the air, even if the sun scalded my face and made my vision go strawberry red. The social repercussions would be worth it.

"If you want respect, try wearing a shirt," Gippal muttered, still wavering behind me.

"I over heat easily!" I shot out in defense, spinning around on my heels, my voice habitually cracking at the sign of confrontation. Sometimes I wonder if I am doomed to forever wonder if I was supposed to be a pre-pubescent boy instead of an estrogen ridden female. Gippal was wise not to mock such things.

"It's called water," the man responded flatly, hand on hip. "Drink it."

"That's _dehydration_, you idiot! There's a _difference_!"

"And I am supposed to presume you suffer from both."

"It's a medical condition..." I choked out measly, pawing the sand with my naked foot. "...I take medication."

"Too much, apparently. When did they start prescribing Slut Pills, anyway?"

"You big...big _poopie head_!" I shouted, reverberations echoing ten decibels too loudly off the nearby machine equipment. "That's not _nice_!"

"Truth hurts," came the excuse.

I had no ready repertoire at hand, so I chose to spin around and continue marching. It's always my ingenious fool proof tactic and I rely on it quite a bit.

"What? No comeback?" Taunting. Provoking.

"You are, like, _so_ totally lucky I don't have my Machina Maw dress sphere with me right now! Otherwise you'd be...you'd be dead! That's what you'd be! Curled up in a fetal position begging for your life!"

"...I don't beg."

"Would so if I had my Machina Maw dress sphere."

"Would not."

I started to bounce from foot to foot, another side effect of confrontation. "Yeah-_huh_! Stop being difficult, Gippal! "

"I'm not the one who insists on changing her clothes every time she needs to fight," he grumbled, passing me in all of his ever present audacity and sauntering on ahead to Pop's strange make shift trailer/excuse for a house.

I bobbed behind because I had no repertoire and couldn't really explain my need to change my clothes to perform certain attacks. All I know is it is easier to perform a dance routine that induces sleep in a singer's outfit than a warrior's one. Ask Yunie. She'd back me up. _What_? Don't make that face! Yes she would!

"Hey, Pops," Gippal partitioned, letting himself in the rickety little dwelling. Nobody has locks in Home. Fiends can't use door knobs anyway.

"Fur the last time, I ain't your Pops you incompetent bleach haired Cyclops! Even _my_ genes ain't that bad!"

I glanced in the general direction of the voice and found it came from behind a closed wooden door located off the side of the kitchen.

"I think he's in the bathroom," I offered gently from behind the ever wavering Gippal who stood in the threshold of the door. "And I like the Cyclops bit, by the way."

"Shut it, Trampie."

"Wut was that?" Pops hollered in his perpetual raspy tone. Gippal winced at the sign of confrontation and I basked in his awkwardness.

"Bambie," he corrected weakly. "I called her Bambie."

"Is that the best you could come up with?" I hissed.

Gippal glared. With one eye. Ha.

Cyclops.

"Whadya want anyway, Gip?" Pops demanded. "Rikku ain't here, and I sure as hell don't have any business with ya, so why don't you scamper along and go poke out your other eye or sumthin'?"

I giggled at the mental image.

"Actually, Pops, I am here," I offered, waving even though he couldn't see.

I heard rustling from inside the bathroom, and Pops emerged within a nanosecond and a half. He trusts Gippal about as much as I trust Brother with a nuclear bomb. Which is: not at all.

"Did you even wash your hands?" Gippal dripped condescendingly.

"'Least I got sumthin' to dirty my hands with!"

And here we go. Round two of the Pissing Wars has begun. Ding.

"Um, letter?" I suggested, waving around the piece of paper to grab everyone's attention. Not like my bare midriff didn't do that for me, but everyone around Home had grown immune to it now. Except for apparently Gippal.

"I didn't know they made them anymore," Pops mused, haulkering over to my position in the ever smelly kitchen that gets washed maybe twice a year if it's lucky. And it is usually Buddy's doing, not mine. He's got this uber thing against dirt. You could _eat_ off the floors of the Celsius. I tried it once. And I'm still here.

"It's from Baralai," I mentioned as Pops tore open the letter. "And, um, it's kinda addressed to me."

"And me," Gippal piped in.

"Shaddup. Wasn't talking to you."

"_Pops_..."

"Wut? I wasn't."

Gippal instinctively leaned over and grabbed the now opened envelope. "My letter," he stated defensively and extracted a formally folded—and not to mentioned very pleasantly scented—piece of paper with Baralai's 'oh so formal' handwriting that was so loopy it was scarcely legible.

"He go to class to learn to do that?" Pops grumbled, scrunching up his pug nose at the sight.

"Gimme," I demanded, taking the letter out of the hands of the scarcely coherent males that populate our island. If they're the best the Al Bhed have to offer, we are seriously screwed.

I cleared my throat.

"_Ahem_,"

"Just read the damn thing, girl," Pops demanded. "I was in the middle of taking a dump. I can't hold these things forever."

"...out of curiosity, just what _did_ Rikku's mother find attractive about you?"

We all pondered this for a silent moment before I preceded with my articulation skills.

"_Dear Citizens Rikku and Gippal_," I began in tones of great import. "Ha ha!" I interjected. "He named me first!" I stuck my tongue out.

"The dump, Rikku," Pops reminded me devoid of emotion. "I was in the middle of taking a dump."

"_It has been brought to my attention, after the devastating events concerning Sin and consequently Vegnagun, that perhaps a new order is called for among Spira_."

"Well I coulda told him dat!"

Ignoring.

"_While the wounds are many and hard to heal, for we can not shake hands with clenched fists nor build upon a foundation that is riddled with the mistakes of the past, we must learn from our past transgressions and proceed onward to a new future for Spira_."

"He wants gil, doesn't he?" Gippal prompted.

Ignoring. Again.

"_While there is much to been conquered concerning the matter of Spira as a whole, I believe it is best if we try to mend the wounds on the inside of ourselves before we try to tackle the feats that lie on the outside. To commence my new plan to bring unity among the many tribes and/or cults and/or religions of Spira_—"

"So basically people who don't agree with him..."

"Gippal, please! _I would like to commemorate a marble statue here in the center of Bevelle to stand as a representation, neigh, a reminder, that when we all work together great things are possible_."

"How far did he hafta reach up his rectum to pull out that crap?"

"_The statue will stand three stories tall and be a mosaic like union of the six of us that defeated Vegnagun_...six of us? Try _three_ you abysmal ass wipe!"

Gippal retracted the letter from my grasp because I was busy spitting blood. He continued.

"..._And we will each stand two stories tall on a pedestal of solid granite, to serve as a reminder what the Youth League, the Machine Faction, and the New Yevonites can do when they work together. Your presence is requested to fix the finishing touches on the statue, and also so that you may be present at the ribbons ceremony. Your arrival is expected in three months. Travel whatever way you see fit. Just show up. And bring gil_."

"It don't say that," Pops grumbled. "I've seen pictures of this Baralai and he don't have the _balls_ to say something like that!"

"Nah, but it was totally what he was thinking."

"I can't believe he said six...!"

We continued to stand there in a hypotonic like stupor for the next five minutes.

"Wellp," Pops initiated. "I gotta go finish taking my dump. You kids run along. Do whatever you want, Rikku. If you old enough to stop wearing a shirt then you old enough to get your skinny white ass to Bevelle on your own."

"...but Pops...!" I whined accordingly.

"Nature calls," he left me with and disappeared behind the door once again.

That left me and Gippal standing in my cramped, stinky kitchen, gaping at each other with mouths like dead gold fish and trying to make sense of the chicken scratch Baralai just sent us.

"Oooh Gippal!" my blond companion mocked in a high pitched voice that was not becoming on him. "I can't open it till I show Pops! What if it's _important_?"

He found this of great humor and chuckled to himself all the way out the door.

I was left standing there, letter in hand, mouth agape.

"Wait!" I called. "_Wait_! _Gippal_! I need to borrow an airship!"

"I'm not going, dammit," came the response from my open window. I could hear Gippal sauntering off farther and farther away.

"Well, fine, if you're gonna be a stubborn poopie head about it, I'll get there on my own! I, for one, think it's very nice of Barali to make this gesture!"

"...he wants gil," Pops muttered from the bathroom.

"Pops," I sighed. "Shut it. I wasn't asking you."

o-o-o-o-o-o

Author's Note

I'm re-writing Nonesense Of Fools. Obviously. I had three chapters done on the thing before I was able to determine it was complete and utter crap and deleted the former composition accordingly. I am continuing it, for Gippal and Rikku are like pure sex (as some fanart on deviant art calls them, ha ha) and to not finish this epic quest would be blasphemy. Yes, for those of you who are wondering, the statue idea was meant to be incredibly stupid and corny. That was the intention. Such are things in a comedy. Really good comedy can intertwine the insane and the plausible and make a fantastic story while it's at it. Not saying this _is_ a great comedy, but I strive for such. Oh, and you can all thank 'Touch Of Grey' for inspiring me to get off my lazy bum and finish this update she didn't know I was working on.

For those of you who are wondering, yes, I am still going to include the original elements I had planned for the first version of this story (ie: Yuna's pregnancy and Rikku's reaction) only I added the element of Gippal and...surprisingly Baralai, which came out of nowhere. Perhaps a dream. I don't really know.

So lemme know what you think:)


	2. Chapter One

To be quite honest with you, Shuyin always kinda freaked me out. First of all, he was way too possessive for his own good. If I had some guy threatening world domination for the sake of my bosom, I think I'd file for divorce. Heroics are cute and all, but you can leave the world alone, ya know? I don't think I'm worth all of Spira. It's okay for them to pretend like they'd give up the world for me, but to actually go out and do it? I dunno, that turns me off. Now where was I? Oh, and secondly, the man acted kinda...nutty. Like he was trippin' on something not quite legal. One too many Elixirs. A chronic Beserker dress sphere. Something wasn't right. He reminded me of those drunken, abusive husbands that come home at obscene hours of the night intoxicated beyond all reason and proceed to beat their wife and yell at their children. Can't you just see Shuyin doing that? I can. Lenne was the only one I have ever seen talk any sense into him...and she's dead. When you need a dead girl to explain things to you, you know you're off your rocker. (Then again, Shuyin was technically dead too, though I think he was in denial of his...dead-ie-ness. Or something.)

Anyway, this was what was running through my mind as I lay awake at night staring at the ceiling. Shuyin. And the highly anticipated statue. Compliments of Baralai. I was trying to figure out just when he thought he was actually helpful in the endeavor to stop Shuyin from taking over the world. Considering he got possessed and all, perhaps we would have been better off without him. But then again, Shuyin may have resorted to using Gippal's body as a host then, since technically our favorite blond haired Cyclops is the only one Shuyin hasn't mind raped yet out of the testosterone ridden trio, and I don't think I could ever look at the man the same way again. I always knew the guy was insane, but for him to be all like 'mwa ha ha ha' insane would be a little hard to handle.

Oh, by the way, I've decided I'm going. I don't exactly know how, but rest assured, I am going. Since Pops was preoccupied taking care of his personal hygiene, I called up Yunie on a Comm. Sphere and foretold the entire chain of events to her, leaving out my less than memorable moments (the dehydration medication, for example. I didn't need them when I was with her; the Celsius had air conditioning. What a concept.) Yunie and I squealed like middle schoolers over the fact we were getting immortalized in granite and we weren't even dead yet. She apparently had received word from Baralai too, again by chocobo, only Yunie was taking the initiative to write a reply reprimanding our former comrade for, as she put it, 'abusing a fine feathered friend of Spira' when there were much more productive ways of getting the word across to her. "Gippal just bitched about it," I commented absent mindedly. Yunie giggled and then launched off on a three hour dissertation about Tidus and the wonders of his...abs. I nodded and smiled and pretended to be interested, because Tidus is like the intelligent brother I never had and I couldn't even think about his abs without momentarily wondering if he had been on steroids (for no family member is ever allowed to be _hot_, right? So it must be steroids. Illegal steroids, at that.) For those wondering, yes the two love birds got married. I'm surprised they didn't go at it right there on the beach in Besaid. Though I think Wakka may have had a conniption fit or something, what with all of his high fulutent religious talk and _ha ha_ it never existed anyway so a big na na na to him.

But then she said something interesting. "On your way to Bevelle, stop by, okay? There's something I want to show you. It's a surprise."

"Oooh, a surprise!" I cooed, flopping across my mattress just like I used to when Yunie and I had mock sleepovers on the Celsius. We may have all had our own rooms, but more often than not, the three of us Gullwings always ended up in the same room by morning. I'd be sprawled out on my mattress, Paine would be characteristically curled up on the floor, and Yunie would be wrapped up in a vast array of sleeping bags in the rocking chair adjacent from my make shift bed. I don't remember what we talked about, except that we laughed until I thought I'd need a staple gun to hold my sides together. It comes back in bits and pieces, though. The memories and all. I'll be digging out in the desert looking for treasure and all of the sudden I'll have a flashback to when Paine and I accidentally stumbled across a forsaken dress sphere in the middle of Mushroom Rock Road and brought it back to the air ship for further investigation. Upon trying it on, Yunie promptly discovered, in all of her stark naked glory, there was a reason the dress sphere was discarded, for it had no actual...dress. It was more of a Nudist Sphere than anything else. While Brother and Buddy got their jollies for the day, Paine simply turned to me and stated in a measured, even tone, "So _that's_ the dress sphere you're constantly wearing."

My left eye twitched in response. "Like you're any better...you...you...dirty little dominatrix!"

Yunie, scrambling to find a towel of some kind, looked up with a face donning genuine innocence. "Dominatrix?" she repeated. "What's that?"

Yes. That was what life was like before drunken psycho Shuyin came and crapped all over my fantasy life of perpetual sleepovers and constant treasure hunting.

And then it hit me. That sinking, writhing feeling deep in my gut. The kind that feels as though your strapped down in a torture chamber and they're extracting your innards with a pair of over heated forceps, slowly pulling each organ out with the most excruciating torpor until you can't stand it any more and you are forced to scream, "Oh gods just stop it already!"

I missed them.

I missed our lifestyle and I missed our familiarlarity and I missed the companionship and I missed the sleepovers and I missed the Celsius and I missed the psychotic family dinners we attempted at eight o' clock each and every night while Yunie set the table and Brother tried to cook something without burning it.

I miss it because now I know I will probably never get it back.

We had twenty four lovely, ethereal months of blissful happiness, and then Shuyin had to show up and be all like, 'I'm the bad guy!' and ruin that delicate safe haven that I had longed so desperately for all these years.

One thing led to another, and after saving the world Tidus came back (ha, I say that like it's a bad thing) and he up and stole Yunie, which I can't really blame them, but still, and without Yunie, where do Paine and I find a common wavelength? Then again, Paine was never the same after the memories of her Crimson Squad days became public knowledge. It wasn't long until she jumped ship too, claiming the need to take a hiatus but in reality I think she went off to sulk. That left Brother, Buddy, and Shinra, who even _he_ didn't stick around long because that precious little precocious ten year old booger went off and got himself a job—frickin employed!—and is now creating wonderful, merry weapons of mass destruction to help further homeland security against malevolent forces of evil and ex lovers hell bent on seeking revenge.

So that leaves me with the Al Bhed, right back where I started.

So what happened? Did we grow up? Did finding treasure not become fun anymore, or was it just not a priority? For some reason, I lived two years under the false misconception that we could continue living like vagabonds forever. I was young and naïve and still reeling from the loss of Auron and the taking of Tidus and all those other things I wasn't expecting to experience at sixteen.

No. _No no no no_! I didn't want it to end! Why did it end? _Why_?

"So what is it?" I finished lamely, trying to mask my sudden melancholy. "The surprise, I mean. What is it?"

"Well, I can't tell you silly! Then it wouldn't be a surprise!"

I emitted a forced giggle, and I think Yunie could tell, for she could always see through the façade, the defense, and her eyes sparkled with that secret, hidden knowledge that all mothers seem to possess when dealing with their difficult off spring. She would make a good mother, wouldn't she? All softness and innocence and saccharine and tenderness. She might need another make-over, but I could see it happening. Just not now. Because there is still a very small part of me that secretly thinks the Gullwings can still get back together. Even though I know we can't.

"Have you heard from Paine?" I questioned abruptly, not wanting to ponder pregnancy issues any more than I had to. Because as long as Yunie was barren, there was still hope, right?

Yunie's face immediately became crest fallen, and I realized I had trod where I shouldn't have. Not like I don't have a right to, but Yunie seemed so happy before.

"I haven't talked to her since the hiatus," she responded sullenly.

That's what Yunie calls this: a hiatus. We haven't officially broken up yet. Even though it's been about four months since we last went treasure hunting. Paine's off being emo, I'm stuck rebuilding Home, Yunie is living out two years of pent up passion with Tidus off in Besaid, Brother and Buddy are out probably destroying the airship, and Shinra was abducted by some giant corporation to help build weapons that kill people. (Yes, but what if they're already dead? Cough. Shuyin. Cough.)

There's a question lingering in the air but neither of us wants to ask it.

How long, Yunie? How long is this hiatus going to last?

I don't inquire, and she doesn't answer. Maybe because we don't know. Or she does know, and that's why she's refraining.

I can play mind games all day. Could you tell?

"She's probably fine," I dismissed. "It's not like the girl can't take care of herself. I'm sure we'll see her at the ribbons ceremony."

"It's herself I'm afraid of," Yunie muttered, barely audible. I pretended not to hear. This isn't a conversation you have over a Comm. Sphere.

"We can talk about it when I stop by," I offered sheepishly, not knowing how to avoid the topic yet confront it all at the same time. "You can surprise me with your...present, and I can surprise you by saying something intelligent!"

Yunie laughed and I knew everything would be alright. We were related, after all. So we'd never lose touch with _each other_, right?

"It's getting late, Rikku. You should get some sleep."

There's that motherly thing again. Hmmph.

"Yeah, yeah, okay..." I pretended to blow her off but in reality we both knew she was right and I was well aware of it. So we said our goodbyes and I clicked off the sphere.

Now it's falling asleep that's the problem.

I'm sitting here festering on memories of Brother and Buddy's belching wars. Of Paine and I arguing over the bathroom sink. Of Shinra getting food poisoning and moving his base of operations to the toilet for three days straight (we communicated through slips of paper under the door...he refused to talk while on the pot.) Of listening to the whimsical tales Bar Keep spun to amuse us when we had to dock for gas. Of juvenile truth or dare games shared between the three of us at the crack of dawn only plausible after pulling an all nighter ('So, Rikku, did you ever have a thing for Wakka?' 'Ewwwwie! No way!' 'Not even a little thing?' 'Gross! Yunie, are you high?') Of gallivanting to wherever the wind blew us, the adrenaline that comes with the unpredictable going hand in hand and giving us a reason to wake up in the morning.

We laughed. We cried. We farted and we belched and we got on each other's nerves. But I was happy. Oh so terribly, terribly happy, that after years and years of being an outcast, both politically and socially, I finally belonged somewhere. I finally had another Home.

And all of this festering was beginning to take its toll on me.

Misty eyed and graced with a lump in my throat the size of a bowling ball, I threw myself out of bed. I winced as my bare feet came in contact with the slick tiling of the floor in my bedroom and shakily made my way to the door. My palms were exuding torrents of sweat, and I had to momentarily pause before turning my night light off for fear I'd get electrocuted.

What? You don't still sleep with a night light? I use it so I don't stub my toe going to the bathroom! Don't you?

Anyway, I left the night light on, for I did not want to fry and die a virgin, and scampered out into the kitchen and to the front door in a flash of white nightgown and blonde cascading hair. Pops sleeps like the dead, so the likelihood of waking him up is about second to none—unless, of course, he was still situated on the toilet, which I highly doubt—and I scampered out of the front entrance of our temporary trailer.

Night in the desert is frigid in most places, save this one, because the gods hate me. I don't know why, it's not like I ever did anything remotely diabolical to them, assuming they hypothetically exist and all, which was always a grey area for us Al Bhed. It's just as simmering at night as it is in the day, almost as if the moon were radiating off stifling rays of toxic heat, even though it's primary purpose, as we all know, is to sit there like a good little rock in the sky and do nothing but look pretty and be the subject of angsty love songs women like to whine about accompanied by a lone guitar.

I think Gippal plays guitar. I'm not sure. Maybe not.

I pattered my way down the now vacant dirt trodden streets of home, weaving my countenance through numerous temp. trailers and tents aligning the streets. All people sleep like the dead here, not just my Pops, probably because that sadistic bastard has them working their asses off at all hours of the day laboring over sheet metal and long forgotten machina. I get vacationing privileges because I'm his daughter—and his only one at that—but probably also because I have a tendency to break things before I fix them. That was Gippal's excuse for not hiring me at the Machine Faction a long time ago. As if he needed one. He could have just said, "Well, _I'll_ be there," and that would have been enough to scare me off. I had no concept he actually _ran_ the place. Which seemed ironic because here he was, meandering around the gravesite of Home instead of actually holding down a job at Djose Temple. Either he invested well or he was stealing, because he sure as hell wasn't making any money.

Though, for the life of me, if I hated this man so much, why oh why was I venturing out at obscene hours in the morning to go and see him?

Because I'm lonely and vulnerable and I know that guy wouldn't sleep with me even if I _did_ throw myself at his feet with tears streaming down my cheeks and lip all aquiver. So it was totally safe to resort to the companionship of the local bum when you're desperate and forlorned and in need of a good laugh. Besides, he probably had alcohol. Pops always said nothing beats the blues like getting drunk. And after a two year probation set by the ever idyllic Yunie on her (borrowed) ship the Celsius, I hadn't had myself a good drink in ages. And as for the legal drinking age: "Hell, age is just a number anyways," Pop always said. And such were the morals I was brought up with.

Gippal lived down the beaten path a little ways, savoring his privacy, not because he was some melodramatic loner with self destructive tendencies (aka: Auron) but rather because, he claims, he really went at it when he offered himself up to the gods of sex and didn't want to wake any of the little children up with his exclamations of pleasure.

"Besides, Nhadala is frickin loud, man."

"Gippal, you have absolutely no respect for the female race. Just so ya know, it disgusts me, alright? Disgust with a capital D."

"None of you get any respect," he muttered, referring to me and my Gullwing companions at the time. "You don't wear any clothes."

"Yunie used to," I had objected indignantly.

"Yeah, well she doesn't anymore. Hell, I probably know her body better than Tidus did. I'm so well acquainted with her thighs I feel like we used to go out."

"Go out or make out?" I inquired. "Because the last time I checked, you were never involved for more than a couple of days."

"Weeks," Gippal corrected. "My longest relationship lasted a couple of weeks, thank you very much."

Yeah. That conversation took place a couple months ago, somewhere in between the Machine Faction and Shuyin, I don't remember.

I eventually reached Gippal's sad excuse for a house, sadder than mine, even, which was really...well...sad. He can work wonders with a monkey wrench and a handful of bolts, but assign him to interior decorating and the entire thing gets blown to hell. He's lucky the monks did all the Martha Stewart work on his precious Djose Temple before he got there, otherwise that too would look like projectile vomit.

I found it odd Gippal's lights were still on (oh, he'd have a perverted field day with that last remark, twisting it and contorting it until it fit his disgusting sexual needs) and momentarily thought about reprimanding him about wasting electricity when we still required so much of it to rebuild Home. He couldn't possible be reading, for that requires brain function, so he probably just fell asleep with his lamp on or something.

I know I advocate the use of nightlights, but geesh, even I only rely on a tiny little chocobo shaped socket bulb as opposed to a giant chandelier, which is what it looked like from the outside. Dumb Butt. He works with machina for a living. He should know better.

I rapped twice on the thin metal door and received no answer. It annoyed me. I knew he was semi-awake. He had to be. He was wasting enough power to light up a small third world nation.

After knocking yet again, I gave up on formalities and just let myself in (remember, no locks in Home, never was and never will be.) I was slightly disconcerted to see a trail of rose petals commencing in the front hallway and leading through the kitchen off into the alcoves that housed the bedrooms. Gippal never struck me as one for flower arranging, and there weren't even any flowers in the desert last time I checked, which I think was yesterday, so I have no idea where he got the rose petals from.

Nobody died so I didn't see why anyone would send them.

I helped myself to a beer from the fridge and sipped it leisurely, savoring the taste of alcohol after a two year absence. It wasn't nearly as good as I remembered it, maybe because whenever I thought of beer while on the Celsius that inadvertently brought up memories of Gippal with it (for the two go hand in hand) and maybe, just maybe, I was missing a little more than the alcohol intake.

Aw, heck, why not? The guy let me kick him. I was allowed to miss the ritual beatings once a month, was I not?

After determining the beer was not as savory as I had remembered it, I placed it back in the fridge, open and all, for Gippal wouldn't care let alone notice, and startled when I heard a large bang originate from the bedroom.

"Gippal?" I called out. "Did you fall out of bed?"

I closed the fridge door and followed the trail of rose petals to the closed entry at the end of the trailer. I was terribly confused. On top of there _being_ no roses in our immediate proximity, Gippal was allergic to bees as far as I could remember. Like, deadly allergic to bees. Last time he got stung his face swelled up and his throat closed and we had to bring over a White Mage from Bevelle, of all places, and we had to pay her under the table because at the time she wasn't supposed to be associating with us. I often wonder why we went through all that trouble of saving him and didn't just let him asphyxiate and die due to his own utter stupidity. If he didn't want to take the time to learn a simple Cure spell, I don't see why we had to go illegally importing White Mages from icky poopie face Bevelle to save his imprudent little rear. Then again, a Cure spell wouldn't have worked anyway, he needed about eighteen bazillion Elixirs and a whole handful of restorative spells I had never heard of, even on my healing sphere, and when he tells the story he even claims they summoned some sort of hidden aeon to ease his suffering.

Which is complete and utter shoopuff turd, by the way. There is no hidden aeon for bee stings. I looked it up when Yunie was starting out on her pilgrimage. If there were such a thing, rest assured, we would have found it and convinced it to help us destroy Sin. Besides, who in their right mind would sacrifice their humanity to become a summon and help in the epic quest to end terminal bee stings?

Like I said: Attention Whore.

"Gippal?" I tried again, after hearing another symphonic procession of various bangs and clatters resonating from the other side of the trailer. "...are you alright? What are you doing in there?"

I then ventured down the beckoning hallway and wrapped my sweaty fingers around the appropriate door knob leading to what I presumed to be his bedroom. Upon opening the corresponding threshold I discovered I had presumed correctly. Of course, I had negated to presume that he would currently be in the process of _sharing_ his bedroom with someone else, which anyone who has known Gippal for more than five point six milliseconds would be able to figure out he does on a daily basis.

I guess my first tip off was the large candle assortment Gippal had actually gone through the trouble creating to line the windowsills and the shelves, bookcases, armoire, and floor. I had never seen so many candles in my life, and I momentarily wondered if he was aware of the potential fire hazard he had thus created in trying to swoon his latest conquest into bed. It was hot enough without the extra heat, and there he was, going at it until he was sweaty enough to dehydrate, and lighting frickin candles, of all things, to add to the ambiance, as opposed to something more appropriate, say various nightlights of different shapes and sizes. That would have the same effect, right?

But no. He goes out and gets rose petals from bees he's deathly allergic to and candles that could boil him alive. Brilliant, Gippal, brilliant. And what victim were you able to actually woo with this stuff? Is she a coma patient?

Candles. In the desert. Well I never.

There was a muted sigh coming from the bed situated in the far corner of the room. I averted my line of vision from the pyrotechnics so I could allow my eyes to focus on a bed that was rocking hard enough to emulate the Kilika seas during tsunami season. After about thirty proceeding seconds of witnessing Gippal's very dynamic sexcapades, I cleared my throat but the latter was to no avail. I was drowned out by the invisible recipient of Gippal's lust, covered by a plethora of blankets and my childhood acquaintance's rippling, sweating back. The headboard was rapping against the adjacent wall in a steady, solid rhythm and I all too quickly figured out where the loud noises had been originating from.

So. Lemme help you, the reader, a little bit by providing some exposition as to my actions next. I was distraught, lonely, and desolate, and I was looking for Gippal to seek some childhood comfort and a couple of beers, only to find that our favorite one eyed sexaholic was too busy screwing his flavor of the week to provide me with some much needed emotional support. I was already devastated given the inevitable conclusion of the Gullwings, and saw nothing wrong with my impulsive action of silently wandering over to the foot of the bed, gathering up the half discarded and long forgotten blanket in my perpetually sweaty palms, and giving a giant tug great enough in strength to probably even move the most stubborn of Shoopuffs. (Yes, that's what I can do. The heck with treasure hunting, I'll go to Moonflow and become a Shoopuff herder. I wonder how the hours are?)

The woman underneath a characteristically moaning Gippal gasped at the sudden drop in temperature, for while Gippal may have been warming her upper half, her legs were splayed out at obscure angles underneath him, naked and at the mercy of the room temperature.

"Ewwwie! Gippal, don't touch that!" I squealed from behind his buck naked ass. "You don't know where it's been!"

Gippal, who, if judging by the volume of his resonating moans was any indicator, was almost about to finish up in his little misadventure and I had just so impeccably interrupted him on his quest to reach his undeserved Nirvana.

"...what the hell?" he grumbled, looking over his shoulder and making eye contact with his intruder. I circled over to the bed side so he could get a better look at me. This was not the first time I had bore witness to the leader of the Machine Faction naked. I have been running in on him since he was fifteen and exercising his manhood on a weekly basis. Actually, no, that's not true, he wasn't making love at fifteen. But he was making out. Quite aggressively, I might add.

But really, when did he progress to making love?

I'm sure he'll be more than happy to tell me.

But that was another conversation for another time.

"Cid's Kid?" he questioned, quixotic expression adorning his features. He was so totally not embarrassed by the fact I had just walked in on him about to come. Or that he was completely naked and still joined to his partner's nether regions without so much as a blanket to aid in his modesty. Or that his female acquaintance was squirming something fierce underneath him trying to escape from his weight so I would not be able to interrogate her, too, concerning the evening's activities.

It was then that my vision wandered down to meet the female of the moment who was unsurprisingly pinned scandalously to the bed with arms over head and visage turned towards the heavens. I noticed something quite alarming and disconcerting and bewildering and disquieting and baffling and and and and any other synonyms you can think of to describe my distress at the current moment, please insert here.

"Gippal!" I squealed, voice habitually cracking on me due to the sudden onslaught of events. "She's a generic NPC! Her eyebrows don't even move!"

I received a feminine scowl in response.

"Her mouth moves," Gippal commented, unabashed. "That's all I care about."

He got slapped across the face for that one.

He looked like he enjoyed it.

I sighed in response. "Oh Gippal, what are you doing screwing the nondescript townspeople? I thought you were with Nhadala!"

"_Were_, being the operative word, sweetie."

By now the aforementioned NPC was trying very extensively to release herself from Gippal's sweaty grasp and find her clothes so she could make a quick escape. It was to no avail, for even though Gippal looks like a willow ready to fall over in the wind, he is actually quite strong. I would know, for I've tried to tackle him numerous times after he has stuffed wet sand down my pants and I was never successful in my ventures. I always required the aid of Brother and Buddy to take him down. Those two were always at my immediate disposal, no matter what the circumstances. ('Hey, Brother, I need your help in taking over the world.' 'Okay Rikku! How can Buddy and I be of assistance?')

Loyalty. That was one thing I always admired about Brother. His extensive loyalty and compassion. It made overlooking the insane and psychotic a little more bearable.

"...and candles? Honestly Gippal, what's with the hot wax fetish?"

Gippal, once again, rolled his one remaining eye around in its socket.

"Well, yeah, kid, of course I'm gonna use candles. I didn't want to waste electricity. You know the FM188 robots can only charge 45.7 percent of their battery on an entire service charge. And even then they still can't operate properly unless you attach the booster packs, which eat up more energy than Brother's ADD meds."

He foretold all this with complete and utter nonchalance, like there totally wasn't a skinny little white skank under him at the moment.

There's not much I can say about the man in his favor, but I will say this. He knows his stuff. About machines, anyway. Not so much about people or logic or common sense in general. But give him a booster pack and a lone FM188 robot and he'll have the entire city up and running in a matter of hours.

So maybe there _is_ a brain in there, _we just can't find it_.

The nondescript NPC eventually managed to retract herself from Gippal's lusty confines with astounding speed an accuracy and was no sooner scuttling around the room in a desperate attempt to find her shirt and thong panties.

Not that I saw the thong panties. But she was wearing them, I'm sure.

"Do you even have a name?" I asked incredulously, referring to the placid faced female trying to squirm into her clothes, which revealed more skin than they covered. I saw Gippal slam his face into the appropriate pillow out of the corner of my eye.

"Gippal," the boy man replied ingeniously, voice muffled by a pillowcase full of down.

"Not you, idiot. Her."

The NPC opened her mouth to foretell the answer to my inquisition when I stopped her short.

"Ahh, but wait! The real question should be, does Gippal _remember_ your name?"

At this the man's head shot up abruptly. "Aw shit."

There was another indignant sound exuded from his partner's lips as she huffed and puffed and stormed out of the room half dressed. I waited until I heard her slam the front door and leave the dirt path before following in her footsteps and doing the exact same thing.

"Rikku, what the hell? Where are you going? And, more importantly, why did you come here?"

I sulked down the inner hallway, stomping on the rose petals as I went. Well, I stomped on what was left of them anyway. The NPC seemed to take care of most of them.

"I can't believe you," I muttered. "Do you ever do anything but...but...but _sex_?"

Gippal, close behind me, falling and tripping all over himself as he tried to catch purchase to my wrist or my arm or the hem of my shirt, supplied a very serious, "Well, sometimes I go to the bathroom."

I snorted and continued past the kitchen and out the front door, taking the front steps two at a time (even though there were only three) and marching hard enough to leave footprints in the dust where I had trod.

"Rikku, honestly, what is going on?"

"I _needed_ you tonight Gippal!" I quipped, whirling around on my heel and staring him straight in the eye. Literally.

Gippal seemed unaware of how to take the last remark, and only too late did I realize what I had just said—and the innuendo it implied—so I covered it up by hastily adding, "And holy hell, you're still naked."

"What?" he asked, donning the façade of innocence. "It's nothing this town hasn't seen before."

I opened my mouth to spit on vilifications, or at the very least something profound and poignant that would keep him up all night, but my throat clamped up and I had to resort to simply turning back around and continued walking.

"You would think you'd have a little more respect for yourself...for the people you...you _hurt_ when you do that stuff!"

There was a pause. "Rikku, you're making no sense. You do know that, right?"

"I mean, it was hard enough losing the _both_ of them. All at once, too. And you know what that leaves, Gippal? Do you? That leaves you. You and my family. And I didn't know if that would be enough. But then you go and...and do stuff like this and..._gods_, Gippal! I didn't know you were serious when you said you had slept with everyone on this island!"

"Can you please slow down? I don't have any shoes on."

I clenched my teeth in preparation for the exclamation to come.

"I really needed a friend tonight, Gippal!" I finally exploded, because I'm good at doing stuff like that. All passionate and impulsive and hot headed. I explode and I sizzle and simmer and I crack, snap, and pop. I run my mouth like constant audio commentary and my emotions would be worn on my sleeve if I wore any sleeves. This was how it had always been and this is how it always will be. This is mature as I _get_.

Gippal stopped in his tracks and looked at me.

"Dude, how the hell was _I _supposed to know that?!"

I balled my hands into two little pent up fists of rage and let out a very profound, "Ieeehhh!" before turning around and running back to my trailer, leaving Gippal standing there in the nude utterly perplexed and exceedingly confused.

"Don't you have any _other_ friends?"

I felt it best not to answer that remark.

o-o-o-o-o-o

I wasn't upset as much as I was angry. Upset it when you find your lover sleeping with an NPC. Angry is when you find your _friend_ doing it. And not to say that we actually ever referred to each other as friends, and we were more like rivals at that, but with every one of my relationships getting shot to hell in a hand basket, well, all I needed was to see Gippal pumping another girl—especially when I needed the assurance that I at least had one constant factor in my life, no matter how much I initially hated him.

We weren't supposed to hold deep conversations and we weren't supposed to confess our love—oh gods no—I just wanted to get drunk and maybe projectile vomit on him in the morning. And regardless of how bad the man treated me, or just women in general, objectifying them until they were no longer human, one learns to lower her standards considerably for friends lest one doesn't want to have any.

Other friends. He asked me if I had _other_ friends.

Gippal, do we really need to go over this?

I was always the girl with the crazy brother. I spent most of my childhood looking after him to make sure he didn't turn up _dead_. When I wasn't doing that, I was busy getting my geek on with machina and actually stimulating my mind as opposed to various other parts of my body. I was over passionate and over reactive, and what middle schooler wants to be friends with _that_? My mother was dead, so gods know I never had any help in the female category, and we all know how Pops goes about parenting. But can you blame him? He was more traumatized than Brother and I combined at the loss of our mother. I don't know how anyone expected him to pick up the pieces, govern an island, and raise two kids, one being a girl at _that_.

And you actually have the gall to ask me if I have other friends.

Gippal, you were _there_ for most of this. You watched it _happen_.

And while you were the distinguished man of the millennium among the adolescent Al Bhed, and you characteristically treated me like crap at that (and all other females, for that matter) at least you took the time to make fun of me. At least you took the time to study me enough so you'd have relevant material to throw in my face. At least you put up with my random, inexplicable outbursts and didn't point out my odd quirks that still linger today, like voice spontaneously cracking.

And what do I find so attractive about this?

Because I figure I deserve most of it, and besides, it was better than anyone _else_ treated me. Well, at least until Buddy turned up sometime around my seventeenth birthday. He held doors open and stuff. I couldn't pay you to do that.

So, the way I see it, if I can't hold on to the likes of _you_, then I guess I'm pretty much destined to lose _everyone_.

And _that_ is why I am pissed.

(Though, in retrospect, of course Gippal had no idea I would come breaking in on that particular night, but like I said: I'm an eternal spaz. Logic was never my thing. Neither was physics, for that matter.)

Irrelevant.

Anyway, I dragged my weight up the steps into Pop's trailer and slumped down at the kitchen table, a mess of dirt, dust, sand, dead rose petals, and the stench of melting wax.

Attractive. I know.

Of course I wasn't going to cry. This wasn't something you _cry_ over. This was more like something you took a two by four to. That's what I felt like doing.

Right as I was contemplating the best way to heave the ice box out the window, I heard Pops clear his throat. The remnants of the action echoed throughout the tin trailer and I peeked down the hallway to see if his pudgy form was waddling into the kitchen for a midnight snack. Or some tomato juice.

I heard the aforementioned again, and this time I peered over my shoulder to see the bathroom door shut tight, with a sliver of yoke colored light leaking out through the bottom. I narrowed my eyes at the sight, unwilling to believe my father was on the pot _again_, twice in the same night.

"Pops?" I petitioned cautiously, not wanting to believe that I possibly ate the same thing that has made him so sick in the first place. The man did feed me, after all. Anything I digested originally came from him. And I did not feel like pulling a Shinra and communicating through strips of paper under the bathroom door.

"Ya shouldn't have snuck out like that, girl," Pops scolded with a sigh.

Oh, gods. He _was_ in the bathroom. I'm doomed. Doomed.

"Pops," I dead panned. "I'm nineteen."

"And I'm fifty five," he quipped. "Wuz your point?"

"I'm old enough to figure out my own curfew."

"Yeah, and you're still livin' under _my_ roof! _I'm_ still your Pops!"

"...who won't lemme borrow an airship."

"Cuz you'll just crash it," he finished. "Now hold on, I gotta concentrate."

I heard a couple of grunts and a very distinguished _plop_ afterwards. I put two and two together and figured the equation out on my own.

"So are you, like, gonna ground me?" I asked, breath bated, for even if I was nineteen, the man still fed and sheltered me.

"No," he concluded, sighing at the release of his bowels. "No, I ain't gonna do that. I just wanted to make you feel guilty, is all."

"Thanks."

"Welcome. Where was you anyways?"

I figured it was best not to answer that.

"Girl, I'm askin' you a question."

"...I was taking a walk, Pops. Just a walk. I'm allowed to do that, right?"

Pops snorted, resounding and irreverent. "It's four in the morning. Where the hell you gonna walk?"

"Around."

"That's no answer, that's a word."

I slumped on top of the kitchen table. "I hate you."

"Mutual," he responded without missing a beat. "Now, you gonna stop beatin' around the sand dune or wut? I want my answer, and I'll come out half nude if you won't give it to me."

That threat would open the mouth of any belligerent daughter.

(Then again, it would be the second penis of the night for me, but some things are best left unsaid, no matter what the consequences.)

"I was at Gippal's," I finally admitted. So I caved in. I always cave in. Sometimes it takes minutes. Sometimes hours. Sometimes days. Once it took a week. But Pops is almost as persistent as I am stubborn. So he eventually wears me thin, and I confess to whatever he suspects (which is usually the truth) just to shut him up so he'll let me be.

But this time maybe I just wanted someone to talk to.

"The one eyed Cyclops?" Pops bellowed, the door shaking in the wake of his voluminous voice. "What the hell did ya go there fur?"

"I wanted to get drunk, actually," I stated bluntly. Figured I might as well tell the truth. What else was I going to say?

"Aw, Rikku," Pops groaned, and this time not in constipation. "Ya coulda got drunk _here_ instead! Why'd ya go to him?"

"Because I was lonely." Silence. Silence. Silence. "And I missed my friends," I added abruptly, realizing once again my unintentional innuendo. "Pops, are you still breathing?"

"...I knew what you meant, dummy," he chided. I knew better than to believe him.

We both sat in our respective seating arrangements, contemplating the turn of events and dancing around the subject at hand. We got good at it after nineteen years, don't ya think?

"Well, you'll see 'em at dat stupid ribbons ceremony, won't ya?"

"I hope so."

More silence. Filling the room. Permeating it.

"Eh, you don't need those stupid Gullwings anyways. You stopped wearin' clothes when you joined them."

"Pops...that wasn't because of them!"

"Evil Gullwing Concubine..."

"Pops!"

"No wonder Buddy never came back."

"_Pops_!"

"Wut? Yuna stopped wearing clothes, too! Braska had to have been turning over in his grave! She better not be dressin' like dat when she pops out female Tidus babies. Ya know what they'll grow up to be? Do ya? Street walkers, dat's wut."

"Pops, who said she was preggers?"

"I ain't havin' none of my second cousins traipsing around in them there hooker clothes."

"I thought you just said we don't wear any clothes."

"Ya don't." Pause. "Oh, wait a sec..."

Ha ha. I win.

I began to pick at my nails contemplatively. I was never regimented enough to grow them out. Yunie always had perfect nails. Always. Mine were all nibbled and gnawed and broken. It always made me feel inferior, and even though I always subconsciously knew I was prancing around in her shadow, the nails only confirmed it.

"What am I going to do with my life?" I wondered out loud, asking both myself and Pops at the same time.

"Damned if I know," Pops grumbled. "That's fur you to figure out, not me."

There was another small interlude that bestowed itself upon us.

"And just wut made ya think Gippal would have the answer to dat anyways?"

"I don't know," I confessed. "Who else was I going to go to?"

Let's think about this for a moment, shall we? Paine is gone, laying dead in a ditch for all we know. Yunie is so high she's out of orbit and not to be held accountable for anything that comes out of her mouth. Tidus is an idiot. A nice, benevolent, lovable idiot, but an idiot none the less. Brother is insane and incapable of forming a coherent sentence. Buddy is currently unreachable, for I have tried and tried again to get in contact with them through my Comm. Sphere but all that comes up is static. If that weren't the case, I wouldn't have to worry about a ship. Auron's dead. Lulu's sadistic. Wakka thinks I'm a blasphemous sinner undeserving of the air I breathe, even though I proved him wrong he can't admit it and still treats me like a heathen. I will probably never get to hold Vidina. Kimahri won't give me more than two words. I think his longest sentence was five. Nooj thinks trying to die is a good lifetime goal and LeBlanc is more concerned with the keeping of her wardrobe than searching for a fulfilling purpose. Baralai doesn't understand anything unless you attach it to politics and tea parties and Shinra would give me an answer so laden with multi syllable vocabulary words that I would scarcely understand what he was saying to me.

Let's ask ourselves what Shuyin would say.

'Why, world domination is a very fulfilling purpose, Rikku. If you're depressed, perhaps you should try to eliminate Spira. Gods know it did wonders for my mood.'

I'm holding interpersonal debates with dead guys. I need help.

"Who says you hafta get the answer from someone else?" Pops questioned, snapping me back to attention. "Wut's wrong with the brain your mom and I gave ya?"

"...it's not too good at physics."

"Dammit child, I coulda told ya that before ya popped out! Nobody in this here family is good at physics."

"So I've gathered."

"Ermph," was Pops intelligent answer. "I think I'm done here."

I couldn't tell if he meant with the bathroom or with me.

With a symphony of grunts that seemed to go up an octave ever time he commenced with a procession, he eventually flushed the toilet and opened the door, releasing a stench worse than Bar Keep through out the house.

"Gee whiz Pops, that must have been something real foul you ate, what to make you go to the bathroom twice like that all in the same night."

"Twice?" Pops repeated, waddling past me. "Who said I went twice? Rikku, girl, I never left the pot."

I stared slack jawed with eyes bulging respectively in their sockets.

"Yeah, I heard you sneak out. And I let ya. So no more snitchin' at me 'bout being a lousy Pops, ya hear? Now go to bed, or ya won't be fit ta work tomorrow."

With that, he waddled off to his room and slammed the door.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Author's Note:

Again, dedicated to Touch Of Grey. Why? Because she updated four times on her Gippal story (which I have yet to review, I am going to literary hell) and I had yet to update once. So I present thee with a twenty page chapter to appease your every Gippal need. Mwa ha ha ha. I hope your addiction is sated.

So, feel free to leave pretty little comments for me, even if they only are one word. They will make me smile and see that these twenty pages were not written in vayne (Final Fantasy XII pun...and nobody is laughing...alas...)

Oh, and NPC stands for Non Playable Character. I was referring to the nondescript Al Bhed extras whose faces don't move and have no speaking lines (notice she never actually _said_ anything.) I broke the fourth wall, or something of the like, but whatever. All for the sake of humor, right? (Don't answer that.)

The Cid scene was so much fun to write. I originally wasn't going to have him make another appearance, but I like him too much. So I stuck him in there again.

And I need a good name for the aeon of bee stings.

Gippal needs to be confronted about that, don't ya think?


	3. Chapter Two

There are three things every teenage girl should do before she dies. One: Sneak out to meet a boy after dark (bonus points if your pops hates him.) Two: Take a leak in an ocean. If you are not within the proximity of an ocean, any large body of water will do. Three: Hide your father's blood pressure medication and refuse to tell him where it is until he lets you stay out past curfew. I do not suggest this is your father is skilled with tazers. And four: Moon a Bevellian. Okay, I lied. That was four. But who cares? There are three kinds of people in Spira. Citizens who can count and citizens who can't.

And as I punched in the coordinates to the Comm. Sphere I had memorized not only by heart but also a lot of other internal body organs as well, I mentally went through the three things every one of my other acquaintances would advocate doing before departing from this plain of reality, since I had just formed a list for myself and, really, is there anything _else_ to think about while waiting for a Comm. Sphere to connect?

I had already figured out most of them.

Paine: 1) Kill things. 2) Practice in front of mirror to conceal emotions. 3) Get Botox every three months to help conceal aforementioned emotions incase mirror practicing does not work.

Yunie: 1) Save the world. 2) Sacrifice life to save the world. 3) Save the world again.

Gippal: 1) Sex. 2) Beer. 3) Repeat.

Shuyin: 1) Avenge wrongful death of girlfriend. 2) World domination. 3) Destroy the world you have just dominated.

Auron: 1) Mope. 2) Angst. 3) Be emo.

Nooj: 1) Be envious of Auron.

So. Lifetime ambitions aside, I had just recently determined that I am a genius. J-E-N-I-U-S. So what if I can't get in contact with the Celsius even though I did nothing but obsessively dial into their Comm. Sphere for the past four hours? So what if my blood brother and surrogate brother could both be dead at the current moment, meeting their untimely demise in a blazing inferno of debris and fuel, compliments of the gas leak I forgot to check last month? So what if I left half my wardrobe on the airship?

I never wore much of it anyway.

Aw, _gaaaah_! I didn't mean it like that! I _didn't_!

...brain fart...

I meant I meant I meant I packed all my crappy clothes because I was always gallivanting around in my dress spheres!

...and not the Nudist Sphere, either.

Yeah, I knew that was what you were thinking.

Remember who I live with.

Anyhow—back to me being a jenius. I had just about given up all hope of ever contacting Buddy again for as long as I live (...maybe I should check the Farplane to make sure he got sent...) and was tearing through the trailer in order to get to my desired destination when I heard the unmistakable gruff tones of my paternal guardian call out from behind me.

"Yo! Girl! Where ya think you're goin'?"

"Out," I answered breezily, whisking by him on the way to the door.

Pops was transfixed in the center of our humble kitchen, guzzling down his tomato juice like it was more important than oxygen or even chocolate. He was bathed in sweat and his odor told me he forgot to put on his deodorant again.

(And lemme tell ya, Al Bhed deodorant is something else. It has to be; what with the evil sun in the evil sky over the evil desert sending down evil rays of evil heat. Al Bhed deodorant is so strong, in fact, that if you put too much on, you won't sweat at all and then you'll die. Really? No—of course not. But it sounded good, didn't it? It was an old horror story Brother and I made up to tell at Ice Box Gatherings. Obviously, here in the desert, we don't do campfires. Nope. Instead we do Ice Box Gatherings where we all gather round and sit next to a portable freezer or a personal ice box and suck on ice chips and watch them melt. Ice box ventures are usually something outgrown by the third grade (unless you're Gippal—then you outgrow them by the second grade because you're _so_ mature and _so totally_ bad ass) but Brother and I kept the tradition alive well into our late teens.

Actually, we never stopped.

Oh—but it was worth it! You should have _seen_ the look on Buddy's face when we told him about Al Bhed deodorant! It was priceless!

"Oh, gods, guys...am I gonna die?"

I bit my cheeks to keep from laughing.

"Yes," Brother replied solemnly, a rarity for him given his usual sporadic nature. "You have approximately six and a half hours."

"Six and a half?" I repeated. "Brother, what the heck? At least give him seven! Round up, for the love of all that is sacred!" I paused. "Where did you get six and a half from anyway?"

"It's how long me have to work on machina!" Brother responded, utilizing his bad grammar he no doubt picked up from Pops. "So I figured that's how long Buddy has to live."

Buddy remained speechless for the next two weeks. I think he actually wrote out a will at one point. I got his shoes.)

Anyway.

I have no idea how much deodorant Gippal puts on—because he never sweats.

Then again, that might be because he never works, either.

"You got any idea how hot it is out there?" Pops scolded, reaching into the yellowing fridge and extracting a can of...tomato juice. "You need to keep your skinny white ass hydrated, otherwise you'll become...become..._non_-hydrated!"

"Pops," I corrected, trying to mitigate my tone. "It's de-hydrated."

"Dat's wut I said."

"No it's not."

"Ah, shuddap and take yer gods damned tomato juice before you fall down and crack your hallow head open."

I brown bagged my hydration and was heading out the door when Pops began to chase me again, this time down the steps, almost falling and cracking open _his_ hallow head in the process.

"You forgot yer sandwhich!"

I turned around, perplexed expression adorning my features.

"...you made me a sandwich?"

Pops grunted. "Well, does it _look_ like I made you a sandwich?"

I followed his gaze and stared down at the lettuce and tomato lunch that my Pops had so hastily prepared for me. I've seen more appealing things thrown up on the deck of the Celsius when Shinra got food poisioning, but I kept my mouth shut. It's the thought that counts, right?

"Aw, Pops, did you miss me while I was gone?"

I was teasing him, and he knew it, too.

He grumbled incoherent things under his breath.

"I didn't miss ya. You made my insurance go up."

"And you're blood pressure," I added, extracting the sandwich from his callused grasp and merrily skipping down the boiling road of Home. The semi-booming metropolis wanna be was trying to whirr and whiz to life in the early hours of the afternoon. Watching my hometown start to resume it's normal activity was like trying to coax a motor boat back to life when you know it's long dead and gone. You just keep sitting there, breath bated, going, 'come on baby, come on,' even though you know it's no use. Sometimes you get lucky. Sometimes you sit there in the middle of the lake and starve to death before help comes because you can't swim and the water is two inches over your head and you know it so you sit there like a good little duck and wait for your insides to gnaw away at your flesh.

Not that this has ever happened here on this island. But Yunie told me about it. From the shores of Besaid. Some fisherman who couldn't swim. I mean, I know how to swim, but most Al Bheds don't. But they live in a desert, so I guess they have an excuse. People always make the false assumption Al Bhed can swim, just because the one who happened to save the world can. It's a faulty conjecture seeing as though you shouldn't confuse being able to hold your breath for vast amounts of time the equivalent to swimming. Every Al Bhed can retain their oxygen for obscene lengths. It's in our DNA or something. I just happened to realize that eventually if you kick your feet around long enough in the water you start to go places, which is how I survived fighting along side of Tidus and Wakka all those years ago, because I'd sooner shoot myself in the eye and share Gippal's patch than admit to a racial weakness in front of Wakka.

So you keep that in mind next time you see me swimming, alright?

Not all Al Bhed swim. This misconceived notion is all Wakka's fault, really. Blame him. I do.

And right now I was choosing to blame him for the heat.

The temperature never bothered me much as a child. I guess that was evident because I used to wear a shirt as a kid. Brother and I devised all sorts of interesting ways to keep cool, since air conditioning is a foreign concept here in the Bakinel Desert. I remember when we were in grammar school we used to spit on each other to keep our body heat down. We did that until we were old enough to realize the implications that were lying behind the line, 'I'm not hot, I just swapped spit with my brother three minutes ago!' Then we moved onto trying to stuff ourselves in the refrigerator in between the frozen meat and peas. When we were young, we fit. One time Brother got mad at me and left me there. I reenacted the feat some years later, only I was sixteen. But age is just a number, right Pops?

Eventually I graduated to drinking water while Brother tried his luck with the toilet. He somehow thought intentionally giving himself swirlies was a bright idea. He ran with this for some five years. It was times like these Pops seriously contemplated taking him to Bevelle, regardless of the connotations at the time, to go see one of their stuck up over paid doctors so they could examine his head.

We never went through with it.

So that's what I was thinking as I trudged on through the streets, my chipper gait diminishing to that of a stagger as the heat slowly ate at my insides. I instinctively reached to roll up my shirt but then quickly realized I wasn't wearing one.

Hm. Well now, that was slightly disconcerting.

By the time I got to where I needed to be, I was hacking up sand and dust and grime, scratching my eyeballs with my nails as my throat felt like holy fire and my tongue a thick wad of inmoldable sand paper lodged in the confines of my mouth. Lip gloss, and make up in general, is just not a social norm for the Al Bhed, for no one wants sand stuck to their moist lips or mascara in their watering eyes. We toss our hair up, throw our clothes on, and get to work. Unless you're me, in which case people try to find excuses to make it so you _don't_ work, for Brother and I are rather notorious for destroying everything we come in contact with. Granted, much to our credit, we are always able to fix anything we destroy, and make it ten times better than what it originally was, but no one ever gives us the chance. Except Pops. Because he's the same way. But he just hollers at people when they try to walk all over him. Brother goes and sticks his head in the toilet. I pick my nails.

We don't get very far.

I rapped on the flimsy sheet metal once again, this time kicking it in conjunction with my salutations. He had to be up by now. I spent the entire morning trying to contact Buddy. There's no way any normal human being could possibly still be—

"I swear to the gods Rikku, this had better be good, otherwise I am going to hang and quarter all four limbs off your body after I finish disemboweling you."

I smiled impishly. Aw, he was annoyed. How sweet.

The door opened and there stood a disheveled Gippal, looking severely hung over and in vast amounts of pain. He walked like he had giant razor blades attached to his skin, like the very thought of conversation or human interaction pained him, and the light that was flooding in from the door was on par with the seventh level of Farplane hell.

"I would like an air ship, please," I petitioned chipperly, knowing all too well where this was heading and what the results would be.

Gippal rubbed his temple, looked at me, blinked, and then cleared his throat. "Um...how about no?" He waited for a response. "Alrightie then." He closed the door.

"Hey! Gippal! I was _talking_ here!" I stomped my foot and pouted. I do it subconsciously, I swear.

"...and I believe I was in the process of not caring..."

"Neeeergh!" I articulated, very coherently, as I fought with the door Gippal was trying so emphatically to close on my sun peeled face. (Sure, my complexion was peachy keen while I was busy saving Spira with Yunie, but stick me back on this gods forsaken island for more than three weeks and my skin starts to go on strike all over again. Gippal's never does. Which annoys me.)

"Cut it out Trampie. I'm hung over, alright? I don't need..._this_...right now."

"_This_?" I reiterated. "I've been demoted to a _this_?"

A mangled sigh was then inserted into the conversation.

"Don't go all pseudo feminine on me. You're the one who dances around in her bra."

"You like commenting on that, don't you?"

"Because I don't think you realize how ridiculous you look."

"This. Coming from the man who followed me around last night stark nude."

"I was in the middle of something, Rikku."

"...a pair of thighs?" I suggested helpfully.

There was a pause, and even though I could not see Gippal's contorted, bleary eyed face (compliments of the door) I knew he was fighting the initial urge to laugh at my very witty and intelligent remark.

"Rikku?" Gippal called out. I beamed in the wake of my impending recognition.

"Yes?"

There was a moment of respective silence. He was letting the anticipation build, I could tell.

"That was lame."

Then again maybe not.

"...I thought it was kinda clever myself."

"No. No, it wasn't."

Another pause.

"So are we done now?"

I growled. Very becoming and very feminine, I'm sure.

"No, Gippal. I need to ask you something. As much as you like to think girls just come up to your door step to fawn and swoon, I have to admit I actually wanted to hold an intelligent conversation."

"I don't feel like giving a monologue."

With one final snarl, I pressed my full body weight against the door, and while I may look like nothing more than a reedy, semi starved teenage girl, I saved the world twice and fought fiends all the way. And what did Gippal do while I was off saving Spira's ass? Screw things. Both figuratively and literally. Gods know working with machina requires a lot of good, strong, steady screws.

Um. Ew, anyone?

Eventually I won in the epic battle between Gippal and the door (and me, to a very tiny extent) and I like to think it's because I was strong enough to defeat Yojimbo in preliminary battle but in reality I think we all know it was because my opponent was pathetically hung over.

"Anyway, you owe me a ship," I continued without missing a beat, stepping in over the threshold and making a bee line to Gippal's fridge, which was in worse disrepair than my own at the current moment. I had already ascertained his beer sucked monkey balls but at the same time habits are hard to break. See? Gippal enters the scene and I reach for the nearest alcoholic beverage within my proximity. I'm sure it's a common reaction among all females Gippal encounters, for how else would he woo them into bed?

"Too many words, too much alcohol," Gippal drawled out, though I was beginning to wonder how drunk he really was. For someone who I was able to make pretty good fun of while sober, one would think I'd be having a frickin' field day with the intoxicated version.

Then again, maybe it would actually make him cordial.

"A ship," I repeated. "You need to gimme one."

"Ya got the gil?" he inquired insipidly, dragging a hand across his forehead, though he didn't need to, it wasn't sweating.

"Do I look like I have the gil?" I questioned.

Gippal blinked at my countenance.

"No, but you look like you _want_ the gil..." came his slow reply.

I huffed appropriately, folding my arms.

"Don't cross your arms over your chest," Gippal instructed, spinning on his heel and preoccupying himself at the kitchen counter with some mundane ritualistic morning activity. "That's the only part of your body that's covered."

I really had no repertoire for that one.

"Gippal, can you look at me while I'm talking to you?"

"Why?" he droned, appearing to be making a salad while shirtless. Who cooks shirtless? Does he even know the meaning of _clothes_? Or did he except sex to just waltz up and slap him in the face between meals?

"I really do need a ship."

"And I really do need some gil."

I dead panned. "You could try getting a job."

There was a pause in which Gippal muttered something in another language. I think I picked up hints of ancient Ronsonian.

I invaded his personal space and peeked over his non sweating shoulder.

"J-O-B." I spelled out slowly.

Gippal glared vehemently at the cracked tile wall in front of him.

"I _own_ a faction, Tramp," he snarled between viciously clenched teeth, which couldn't have been helping his hang over headache.

"Yeah, but do you ever _work_ at it?"

"Bosses don't work," he retaliated. "They just see over things."

"And take three week vacations, apparently."

Gippal finished mixing his salad. Only Shiva knows what he put in the thing. Some lettuce leaves. A tomato. Orange peels. Was he thinking straight?

"Gip," I intoned, risking a glance southward at his salad. "I've projectile vomited more appeasing meals."

And then he glared at me. Not a little glare, like I was used to. A big glare. A huge glare. A glare that says, without really saying it, that 'I have had enough of you and perhaps you should go die now.' He matched it with a vitriolic sneer and I think I felt my innards tremble. The salad was long forgotten on the kitchen counter as he turned around and stormed out of the room, down the hallway and out the backdoor.

Confused, I followed him.

In retrospect, probably not the best move. But I did it, none the less.

He heard me tailgating him, and I could tell from his direction he was stalking off to go and tinker with his precious ships, of which he had three. His house may be dilapidating, but his ships were kept in pristine condition. The were shimmering up something fierce in the vicious sunlight, and I wondered momentarily if we could have warded Sin off the first time simply by blinding him with my partner's vast array of metallic vices.

But no matter. He was too busy cowering and playing with himself during the first attack on Home. I was the one who went out and saved the world. Twice. Yet he gets a statue. Someone explain that to me, please.

"Um, excuse, eye contact?" I suggested to Gippal's shirtless back, which, I must admit, didn't look all that bad. Save the scratch marks from gods know who that seemed to decorate it on all sides. At least there were no whip marks. Paine claims some guys like that. Yuna gagged accordingly. Wait; she turned pale. I was the one who gagged. Or something like that. I don't remember.

At this, Gippal whirled around, still donning his 'please go die' expression that I had never seen before. It made me cringe a little. Okay, a lot. I knew I pissed the guy off but he did the same to me. So I figured it was all game, right? All I did was interrupt his apparently very meticulous salad making. I didn't think that was a fate worse than death.

He seemed to be at a loss of words. For once. Now, I dunno about you, but this made _me_ at a loss of words. Since when was Gippal rendered too angry to speak? Um, how about never?

Since he is one quarter idiot, two quarters horn dog, and one quarter retard, he settled on saying nothing save simply snatching my brown bagged lunch from me, which I had not put down since arriving, and stalked off while rummaging through its contents like _his_ father was the one that prepared it for _him_.

"Hey!" I whined. "You big poopie face! Give that back!"

He, of course, ignored me, as per usual, and made his way over to the biggest of his three ships (or 'babies,' as he likes to call them...to me a baby is something that screams and cries and kicks and has a soul, not a hunk of metal and screws incapable of personal thought. But whatever. Gippal is probably infertile—which would explain the lack of grandkids—and is simply trying to over compensate for something.)

I followed him onto the deck of said shiny ship number two.

"Give that back!" I screeched, snatching the bag from him, which ripped accordingly.

It's not like I have some sort of deranged attachment to my sandwiches, it was more the personal thought that went into its production that irked me. Pops made that sandwich for _me_, not Cyclops, and he should _not_ have been taking _my_ things without asking!

...pretend, for the sake of my thief dress sphere, I never said that.

The contents were splayed all over the metal flooring of his prized ship, splattering and clunking accordingly, orchestrating a strange symphony of echoes off the metal walling.

Rikku's Food Falling, Beethoven's Fifth.

"Gip-_pal_!"

"_Sacred Shiva_," Gippal spat, spraying tomato juice everywhere as he sputtered and gasped and hyperventilated in an epic quest to try and obtain air. "What's in this _crap_? I've tasted _piss_ water better than this!"

"...you've tasted piss water?"

"Rikku," Gippal grumbled, wiping his mouth off on the back of his hand. "Shut up."

"It probably just tastes bad because you're hung over," I chirped, secretly, or not so secretly, pleased that the beverage was to his immense disliking. "Serves you right for stealing it from me."

"And how is it you make a living again?" Gippal shot back, trying to find some place to dispose of the tomato juice. Apparently trash receptacles were not a priority on Gippal's customized ships. But satin sheeted beds were.

"I borrow," I corrected coyly. "For extended amounts of time."

"And break. And sell. And profit."

"_Customize_," I corrected.

"Yeah. Whatever. Get out."

Who would have known man whores could be so irritable the day after?

"Were you this benevolent to Nhadala after you porked her or did you just kick her out on your door step when you were done?"

Gippal, refusing to look at me again, though seeming to pick up an odd hunch to his stance, dug the heel of his hands into his eyes and groaned outwardly.

"Rikku, I'm asking you nicely, _please go away_. I need to be alone right now."

I smirked.

"Too early for a partner?"

So. I didn't see my life flash before my eyes when I was in the process of fighting Sin. I didn't see my life flash before my eyes when I was in the throes of battle with Shuyin either. I didn't even see my life flash before my eyes when I stole Auron's extra rations because I was super hungry and he was pretty much dead anyway.

But I saw my life flash before my eyes then.

Gippal turned around, and I swear, his one eye was shooting daggers. Or bullets. Or whatever it is he prefers to fight with. Perhaps screw drivers given their sensual implications.

Right as he was about to lunge or spit or stab or shoot or whatever it was he planned on doing in order to permanently maim me for the rest of my life, he doubled over clutching his stomach. I quirked an eyebrow and momentarily thought about high tailing it out of there, but unlike some one eyed people, I actually had a soul in the confines of my chest and wasn't into leaving wounded comrades behind.

Paine didn't have a problem with it, but Yunie changed her mind after about six months of persuasion.

"Too much beer?" I queried saucily. I had no sympathy. This man stole my tomato juice.

"No, the juice," he choked up, trying to crawl to the nearest bathroom which was adjacent to him.

"You didn't even drink any of it!" I protested.

I was offered but two words in response: "After. Taste."

Well then. I never knew tomato juice could be used in the stead of epson sauce. This is the kind of thing Tidus would derive hours of enjoyment out of knowing and Yuna would never think to tell him. I guess the duty falls on me.

And so off Gippal went. To revisit his two bites of horrifically made salad and some residue tomato juice I'm glad I avoided in drinking. He didn't stop at just two carks, though. I suppose the beer kicked in and he was dry heaving and wet heaving and damp heaving for the next ten minutes. I gloated for five of them.

For the remainder of his time spent on the toilet, I took the opportunity to look around his ship. I was trying to figure out what lame name he had assigned to his phallic symbol, no doubt, expecting it to be emblazoned in neon hues to the side of the emergency hatch or some such nonsense. But it wasn't, and I moped accordingly.

It wasn't until later, when I suppose Gippal was finishing up his aerial acrobats, that I got an idea.

Which is deserving of its own paragraph because my ideas are usually quite ground breaking. Last time I had one Yunie, Paine, and I found enough gil to live off of for the rest of our lives and then some, lest one believes in reincarnation. (But Yunie being herself, only kept enough to suffice for the continuity of the Gullwings and donated the rest to some Kilika orphanage since it was previously destroyed by Sin. I say we should have kept it. Those Kilikia kids are doing just fine, have you _seen_ their metropolis lately? But no, Yunie had to go all holier-than-thou on us and give away our hard earned gil to a good cause, which I suppose I shouldn't be bitter about but still am. And this is why I like Gippal on very rare occasions. See? He would have agreed with me. He would have kept it.)

Anyway.

Where was I? Oh. My idea.

Gippal was busy revisiting his organs in the bathroom. I was alone with the control panel.

Still in the dark?

Lemme spell it out for ya: I COULD STEAL HIS SHIP.

With him in it!

Oh! The irony! The irony was too much to bare!

Even if I didn't need the ship for my own purposes, I probably would have stolen it anyway just to see the look on Gippal's face when he dragged his head out of the toilet.

So off I went. I skipped (skipped, I tell ya) to the main control deck and began fiddling with the vast array of buttons Gippal had installed on his main panel. It wasn't too hard to figure out. Gippal is superficial. Thus, half the buttons in the main cockpit didn't really do anything (and if they did, it probably pertained to the sleeping quarters.) As much as the man liked divulging in the feminine race, he hates head games, so I knew all the important controls would be right up front. And I was right. Like I usually him.

"Gippal? You still with me?"

No answer. Good.

I worked my magic with machina (even though my strong point is taking it apart and breaking it as opposed to putting it together and fixing it—it doesn't take a genius to figure out the big green button means POWER and the big red one means BREAK. Even Brother could have figured that one out) and pretty soon the engine was humming to life. It purred accordingly and the reverberations could be heard throughout the metal hallow. Now I had to work fast because any mechanic as seasoned as Gippal knew the signs of take off, motor ignition being one of them.

I pulled back on the throttle, not really sure which way to pull but I'm still here so apparently I pulled the right way, and the luminous hover craft began to rise off its sandy perch accordingly.

Driving was an obstacle I had hastily overlooked, and only now that I was faced with it did I realize its dire importance.

"Um...Gippal?" I called over my shoulder. "I need some help stealing your ship!"

Either he was incapacitated or had fallen out of the open exit ramp because I received nothing so far as a response.

Excellent.

Left. Left seemed like a good direction to go.

Left was also where Gippal's third ship was located.

It fun scraping the bottom of metal on some more metal. The noise is enough to make you clench your teeth until they snap. Which I think mine did. Not the front ones, of course, but one of the back ones. I heard something crack. Maybe it was my neck.

Anyway. Just barely grazing the top of my arch rival's third baby supplied me with enough adrenaline to last a life time, even in the Farplane, but now I had to navigate beyond his trailer, and after that _the town_.

"Oh...oh..._poopie_!" I cried.

I had never wanted Gippal so desperately in all my life.

And then, almost as if on cue, his shirtless, tan, sweatless form materialized beside me, grabbing the controls and locking me in his hatful embrace.

"I swear to all that is holy and sacred if my hands where not on these two throttle controls right now they'd be squeezing the life out of your pretty little neck."

I sat mute and pale.

I thought for certain we would be totaling the ship and leveling Gippal's home. Not to mentions killing some poor, innocent by standers in the process.

But as horny and egotistic and arrogant as that one eyed bastard is, I will say this: the man can fly. He knows his machines, there's no denying it, and he definitely has an innate skill with building things and an instinctual adaptation to flying. Or driving. Or hovering. Or whatever the circumstances call for.

He proved it right then.

I could no longer tease him or mock him or belittle him about his lack of skill concerning machina, for he had just bombarded me with evidence that he was superior to me in every single way.

I just wish I had some skill I could do the same thing to him with.

It's funny. The man is all beer and jokes and torpor until human life is at stake. Then all of the sudden he tenses up and is all business, like I have never seen before. Even Tidus had a sort of carefree air to him when fighting fiends. Our lives were on the line, but he knew, we all knew, deep deep deep down, we'd make it out alright. Death may have been in our dreams but it was never in our thoughts. It was never factored into the equation.

Gippal seemed at odds with death in a way I can't satisfactorily articulate. Like it had some kind of strong hold on him and he didn't know if he was going to emerge victorious.

I know from first hand experience, the front running thought on every fighter's mind is knowing they will be victorious. Because if it's not, then you will surely fail.

And Gippal was haughty enough to suffice for seven melee fighters. Just not himself.

So why did he look like he was about to lose?

Obviously, since this retelling is in first person, we made it out alive, and so did Gippal's trailer, his third baby, and any innocent by standers. Oh, and me.

Well, for the moment, anyway.

"Just _what_ the _hell_ was _that_?"

I had to wipe my face after Gippal bathed me in his spit. He wasn't kidding about the tomato juice, it really did smell horrendous. The stench was enough to make me sick, I couldn't imagine what it would be like in my mouth.

"Stealing," I answered simply. Then I paused. "Or borrowing. For extensive amounts of time."

There was a vein dancing on Gippal's forehead. I poked it. He was not amused.

"You're really mad at me," I noted.

"Mad does not even _begin_ to describe it."

He then did his macho stalk off thing, slamming the doors to his bed chambers for added dramatic effect (which was a pretty hard feat seeing as though they were automated...what a pimp.)

This left me sitting alone at the control panel, Spira at my fingertips and Bevelle not that far away. I suppose this was Gippal's surrender, abandoning me at the cockpit of one of his precious babies.

Besides, you can't tell me the man would pass up an opportunity to go to a ceremony in his name where he could possibly—_probably_—get laid by numerous females of all sizes and species. And alcohol. Mustn't forget the alcohol.

So I plugged in the coordinates to Bevelle and set the thing on autopilot.

I then went rummaging through his glove compartment in search of a Comm Sphere.

I didn't find a Comm Sphere anywhere within the premises of his dashboard. But I can tell you what I _did_ find: lubricant (for mechanical purposes, of course,) Nhadala's black satin bra (who wears black in the desert, for gods sake?) an extra box of color coded fuses, some nondescript movie spheres I didn't feel like wasting time looking at (most likely Ronso porn, knowing Gippal as his eccentric fetishes...candles in a desert being one of them,) a half empty beer bottle, an external memory drive, a large assortment of flavored condoms (beer surprisingly _not_ one of them,) and five different monkey wrenches.

Monkey wrenches. Next to a bra. Only Gippal.

Eventually I wandered over into the storage closet and found what I was looking for: one lone Comm Sphere tucked away beneath a box of tools and bolts.

Funny, for all the bedroom acrobatics Gippal willingly participated in, he didn't seem to keep in touch with any of the female counterparts.

I dialed in the Celsius' code from memory. As usual, nothing. Normally this would worry me, but I had just stolen from my arch rival and was now locked in air tight, claustrophobic quarters with a member of the opposite gender I couldn't stand after very nearly leveling my hometown for a _second_ time, so the welfare of my unofficially psychotic brother who always seemed to turn up fine in the end was the last thing on my mind.

Besides, he had Buddy with him. And I swear, that kid is like a Prodigy Child sometimes. What with all those brains Yevon or Yojimbo or Shiva or whoever stuffed in his skull. They'll be fine.

Next I dialed in my house number. Well, house is too complimentary of a word. Trailer is more appropriate. Temp. Trailer.

Static fizzled and danced on the convex sphere screen momentarily until the blurred, undefined face of my father came into hazy view before me.

"Pops?" I called out.

He sighed, rubbed his temples, swore in Al Bhed, and muttered, "What have you gotten yourself into this time, girl?"

Pause.

"...I think I found out why you've been going to the bathroom..."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Author's Note:

You people are so kind. Your reviews make me feel like I could take on the world with nothing but a spork and some cheese fries. Thank you. Really. Your input not only means the world to me, but it also helps me as far as the writing of the story goes what with your critiquing and comments. Not that I have any intentions of changing the originally conceived storyline (ha; says the girl who took this entire thing down and started anew some three years later) but you people are all geniuses in your own right. And I have proof.

Originally, I had no intentions of Cid playing any more than a guest role in this story. I didn't know if my interpretation of his character did his pixels any justice, and I was afraid he would come off more annoying as opposed to humorous, which was what I was originally hoping for. In the end, he was way too much fun to write to be considered legal, so I decided to put him in regardless, but the positive feedback I received concerning him and his bathroom mishaps helped me see that perhaps I should include a Comm. Sphere on Gippal's ship (which is, at the current moment, Nameless) so Rikku can still communicate and hold elaborately graphic dialogues with our favorite pot bellied Pops.

Oh, and the input on the Aeon of Beestings was ingenious. Cookies for all of you.

Anyone got any good names for Gippal's third baby? Or his second baby. I forget.

Ooh, I should come up with a Triptec Name. Something lame. Like Faith, Hope, and Charity.

Not to say those are lame names by any means. But for air ships? GIPPAL'S air ships? Yeah, I think the man can do better. Something more desperately manly.

Like Testosterone, Pheromones, and Adrenaline.

Or Dopamine, Serotonin, and...quick, what's another pleasure inducing chemical?

Beer.

Yeah. Not gonna work. Unless I name all of his ships after alcoholic beverages.


	4. Chapter Three

So. It is rumored that Gippal was once so sexy that he was even capable of wooing Shelinda into bed with him, regardless of whatever political affiliation she held at the time (or how damn _cute_ she looks paired with Baralai.) I don't believe it for a second, for that woman probably wears a frickin' chastity belt under her robes complete with a pad lock and self detonator, but most of Home seems to hold this general consensus.

Alright. I've been hearing about Gippal's sexcapades plenty for the last couple of years, and after a while...I dunno...I want some sustenance, ya know? Proof that he's more than just a pair of testicles. He has to have feelings and thoughts and brain processing down there _somewhere_. Something more than an endless supply of condoms and alcoholic beverages.

Though, by the looks of it, perhaps my original assumptions were not that far off.

I was still absent mindedly fiddling with the controls on the metallic mother board when Gippal decided to grace me with his presence yet again (this time clothed, thank gods) and wearing lethal amounts of cologne.

"We need to make a pit stop at Besaid," I chirped, no room for arguing. "Yunie has a surprise for me."

"Well I have a surprise for you," Gippal retaliated, fussing with his hair in the reflection of a nearby edifice. "How about no?"

"I didn't _ask_, Gippal," I pointed out. "I told."

"Whose ship is this again?"

"I'm borrowing it, remember?"

There was a dead beat as the repertoire momentarily flat lined.

"I'll turn this thing around," he threatened. Lamely, at that. How can someone manage to pull off threatening and still be lame? He does it, I swear. I don't know how but he does it.

"Shoopuff turd," I exhaled. "You're not coming anywhere _near_ the control panel."

His one eye glimmered in the impending sunshine, absolutely radiant and _beautiful_ up here (the sunshine; not him), since it was sans the heat, which is why I never much minded flying (or machina in general, for that matter. You can control the internal temperature) and leave it to Gippal to have a thermostat on his ship that ranges from tropical spa like climates to Ronsonian frigidness, all accessible in a matter of seconds.

He doesn't discriminate by race. All species are equal opportunity lovers.

"Why are we going to Besaid?" he questioned, which was his silent way of resigning to my stubborn audaciousness, matchable only by his own.

"I told you, Cyclops, Yunie has a surprise."

"...she's wearing clothes again?"

"Gippal, that's getting old."

"Then put something _on_," he directed, turning away and muttering in ancient eastern languages. Since when did he become so bilingual anyway?

I played with Gippal's joystick for a while, since the ship was on auto pilot with its coordinates set to Besaid (previously altered from Bevelle, curse my sporadic mind) and didn't stop my mindless fidgeting until I realized how scandalous that last sentence just sounded.

"So what did you manage to name this thing anyway?"

Gippal plopped down next to me, shot gun, reeking of man perfume and shower gel and way too much deodorant. He looked at me as though the topic of names never crossed his mind.

"I hope you don't have the same theory for your offspring," I articulated. "Your babies need names. You do know that, right?"

"That _was_ custom last time I checked," he replied, the corners of his mouth turning up a bit at this. I felt something deep inside me turn over at his smirk, but chose to keep such observations to myself. Well, at least until I told you.

"So is it some lame knock off triptych name?" I suggested helpfully. "Gippal I, Gippal II, and Gippal III?"

"Even I'm not haughty enough to name my ships after myself," he intoned.

"Smart move. They probably have more stamina."

Cue another one eyed glare. Can you imagine the havoc this man would wreck with his veers if he still had possession of both his eyeballs?

"Beer," I wildly proclaimed. "You named them all after beers."

"..."

Gippal did not deem that worthy of comment.

He then insipidly propped both of his bare feet up on the dash board, which I had the instinctual urge to reprimand, but then I quickly realized this was not indeed my ship which I was in a position to do reprimanding _on_, and sat there stupidly as I watched my childhood rival make himself at home in a place that actually _felt_ like home, not some ancient, dead, long forgotten ghost town Pops tries to keep resuscitating.

"Fuzzy Navel," he inexplicably offered.

I blinked in response.

"This one is named Fuzzy Navel."

I paused. "Did you make that up just now?"

My comrade snorted at the indignity. "Of course not, Trampie. I've had that name picked out for a long time."

I fiddled with a lock of my blonde hair that was currently on strike.

"...did you name it after the body part or the alcoholic beverage?"

Gippal had to think on that one.

"Well, I guess the beverage, seeing as though the other one is named Slippery Navel."

"Ew."

Cyclops was taken aback by my disgust. "Slippery Navel's are friggin' good, man! Especially the way Nooj makes them."

It startled me to hear Gippal refer to Nooj at all, much less in terms of camaraderie. Enough camaraderie to be drinking buddies, at that. But then again, I suppose it makes sense, doesn't it? After all, they _were_ in the Crimson Squad together.

"Well then what's the third one?" I continued.

"The third what?"

"Ship, stupid. Your precious baby. What's its name?"

Gippal festered over this for a moment or two.

"...Pierced Navel?"

There was some silence.

Then we both inexplicably burst out laughing.

It wasn't a volcanic eruption, the kind I was notorious for on the deck of the Celsius, the kind that seemed to follow the likes of Yunie and me where ever we may go (and later Paine, who didn't really do all that much laughing, in retrospect. Though she did smirk quite a lot.) But it was a handful of hiccupped giggles, later swallowed alarmingly and tried to be ignored, for when was the last time we did _that_ together?

For Gippal, that was probably more intimate than making love.

Only they don't make Laugh Condoms, so now I probably have his deadly tomato juice STD's.

"Alright," I conceded. "So your fetishes for navels aside, anything else I need to know about before taking up temporary residency on your ship?"

"Don't touch the thermostat," he said in all seriousness. "And, well, don't touch the thermostat."

Then a frightening realization occurred to me.

"Oh noes!" I cried, hands migrating to the sides of my peeling face.

Gippal quirked his good eyebrow.

"I left my dehydration medicine at Home!"

"Oh good gods..."

"No, really," I continued to babble. "I over heat easily, remember? I _like_ the cold. I _need_ the cold."

"Yes Rikku, we can all see that."

"Well then I need free reign of the thermostat!"

"Well you're not getting it," Gippal muttered. "I like it hot. Deal."

I dead panned in the wake of his attempted negotiations.

"Your chivalry is astounding."

"As is yours, dear."

I really had nowhere to go with that one. I was pissed I didn't have total control on a ship my enemy let me steal. I guess I would just have to suffer stoically. Like I usually do. Right?

"Alright," I breathed. "But if I faint and whack my head on one of your precious dash boards and have my brains and blood and bodily fluids spilling all over your floor—"

"—I'm making you clean it up."

Again. A pause. This man has no soul.

"Cyclops," I hissed out, this time taking my turn to storm off into the guest quarters I already knew were built in from previous ventures on Gippal's Fuzzy Navel.

"Trampie," he cut back, not even bothering to deliver the insult over his shoulder, instead opting to let it bounce off the windshield and ricochet back at me.

I made my melodramatic exit. Only _I_ succeeded in actually slamming the door.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I was getting jittery, like I had once again ingested way too much coffee to be considered healthy or even _legal_. I mean, I am prone to bounce off inanimate objects when _not_ under the influence of chemical enhancement, but now that I was faced with getting to see Yunie and Tidus and Wakka and Lulu again in one fell swoop? Well, caffeinated beverages are over rated anyway. Adrenaline is a much more plausible (and cheaper) substitute.

(Never mind Auron banned me from drinking anything stronger than diet tonic water on our previous ventures. Apparently my eternal spastic nature while inebriated on things other than his precious Saki gave him a migraine.)

And, well, it's not like Gippal had coffee on his ship. Just beer.

Brother and I once had the discussion on what kind of drunk I'd be; since already insane and liable to do highly illogical things while sober. It was one of the first family debates Buddy ever participated in, and served as a rite of passage for admitting him into the family. Pops had his own reservations concerning the matter, saying that I would probably make for a depressed, suicidal drunk, not too unlike Shuyin, while Brother advocated I would just be all the more crazier.

"Yes, but she may be inclined to be abusive," Buddy noted, in tones of great import.

We all sat and pondered this for a moment.

It was a good point.

"...So, Gippal, what kind of drunk do you think I'd be?" I questioned, panting because I had just finished up my third set of jumping jacks and my fourth set of push ups (you think I got the body naturally?) mostly because I could now see the dark, ominous waters of the ocean begin to turn to more friendlier shades of innocent Besaid blue, soft and welcoming like cotton and candy, and that meant we were all the more closer to Yunie and Tidus. The clouds wisped by as my comrade lowered the Fuzzy Navel so it could take up temporary residency on the sandy shores of the island, complete with tourists and children and a practicing Blitzball team. ('I hate Blitzball,' Gippal had muttered previously, upon listening to one of my tirades concerning Tidus and his ever reigning stupidity. 'How do you think I lost my eye?' He was, of course, joking, or at least I think he was, but at any rate, I ignored his displeasure and continued to foretell of my amazing adventures experienced while saving the world that he was forced to sit out on the first time around.)

Gippal was manually making the descent through the ethereal heavens as I came up behind him and poked my face over his massive array of spikes.

My unrequited wrath that I had pledged would last a lifetime had long been forgotten, say, sometime when I saw the sandbars start materializing and the tropical birds flying overhead.

"What kind of a question is that?" he asked, scrunching up his face like a washboard made love to a slinky, and quietly trying to hide the can of alcoholic 'Al Bez' he was listlessly sipping in the cockpit.

Previously, like, two years previously, he had tried to persuade me to start on a steady diet of beer simply because the beverage is a known depressant and he thought that perhaps it would take the edge off of my stellar personality.

It didn't. But still.

"An honest one," I chirped, peering over Gippal's shoulder and eyeing the can in his right hand.

"I dunno. We've already tried getting you drunk, remember? There wasn't much of a difference."

"Gippal, I got up on your kitchen table and started ranting about nonsensical notions concerning the Bevellian sewage system."

A pause.

"...like I said, there wasn't much of a difference."

Another pause.

"I'm still mad at you."

"I couldn't tell."

Insert some unscripted grumbling here.

After a few minutes dedicated to some patented Rikku fuming, I took to pacing the length of the cockpit, my nerves now clearly evident as Gippal maintained his normal cool nature he seemed to pick up every time he piloted something twice his body mass index. (Let it be known, while the man has always had a knack for piloting airships, he is absolutely horrible at flying anything with remote controls. Even Brother can beat him in the former, which we set out to prove on fateful day in a contest set up by yours truly. Of course, Brother and I were young and stupid and forgot to factor witnesses into the occasion. The two of us yelped with glee when his homemade model aircraft passed Gippal's on the vast expanse of desert we momentarily turned into a racing arena. Gippal, trying to hide his displeasure, took up façade number one seventy five, and simply shrugged it off saying, 'No one's going to believe it.' Brother paused, confused, and asked, 'Whaddya mean?' Gippal smirked at this, setting the mood for his next statement. 'I mean I won.' Brother and I then commenced on a lengthy list of oaths we picked up from Pops some while back, but Gippal was ultimately right. No one did believe it, and he was somehow able to convince everyone in our intermedial class that he was the true victor in our backyard drag race. Brother never forgave him for it. Come to think of it, I never did, either.)

Where was I?

Oh. Nerves. Right.

"Um. Am I landing on the beach or what?"

"Yeah, yeah, go for it," I panted breathlessly.

"Dude, calm down. You sound like you just finished up having sex."

My face scrunched up, and I kicked the back of Gippal's leather clad seat with as much strength as I could muster, for the moment not caring if we crashed and died.

"_Trampie_!" Gippal spit out, but we both knew it would take more than my temperamental nature to have a seasoned pilot such as my comrade crash the ship in defeat.

I watched as Gippal resumed his former position and readied the Fuzzy Navel for docking.

He does it with such ease and nonchalance it's enough to make any machina guru jealous. Even me. And strangely, I find nothing hotter than watching a man work with machines. Which is not to be read into for subtext. Obvious disclaimers still apply (ex: Gippal.) But I think that's why I never developed a thing for Tidus (well, beyond that whole brother/sister thing we had going there before he disappeared and all.) He was absolutely horrible with anything involving metal and electric. I still have a hard time believing he grew up in Zanarkand, which was practically a machina metropolis, and he couldn't plug in a power converter to save his soul. Same goes for Wakka and Auron. They could punch their way through solid brick walls if called for (Wakka all by the sheer strength of his thick skulled head and his innate ability to face plow through anything that stands in his way) but none of them were any good with building or tuning or even flying for that matter. It's just so...lame. I mean, how hard is it to steer an airship? (Brother is exempt from this argument, for it is clearly evident he is still learning to deal with some severe brain trauma sustained during early childhood. Pops claims he dropped him down the stairs when he was a baby. I think he dipped his head in the toilet one too many times. At any rate.)

And then there's Buddy, who has brains like you wouldn't believe, but I think the gods removed part of his libido to make room for all of his smarts. I don't think the guy is even aware females populate the planet. Pops thinks Buddy will one day create his own robo wife, which, according to him, has obvious advantages. "Just imagine, Bro," Pops continued, on his usual soap box. "She'll clean and cook and maintain the house all without a word." He paused, and then added, "And she'd stay in the kitchen, where women belong." He said that specifically to get a rise out of me, and he got it, too. I chucked a ceramic bowl at his dome shaped head and missed only by a few centimeters. I don't know how you could spawn a daughter who went off and saved the world and still pretend like you believe bull like that. "_And_ she'd probably wear clothes," he pressed on. Brother then looked at him quizzically. "Me thought robots were usually naked."

I remember smirking quite evidently at my wayward victory.

So Gippal finally touched ground and I think I nearly died from excitement.

(The nice thing about Besaid is you can feel the sun warming your back and you don't have to worry about skin boils.)

The minute the Fuzzy Navel hit sand I leaped out of the exit ramp. I had it opened while we were still in the air. Gippal spit out profanities accordingly.

o-o-o-o

The first person I ran into was an unsuspecting Wakka. I hadn't Comm-ed in ahead of time, because I thrive off the element of surprise. In response to my unforetold arrival, Wakka turned five shades of red from shock.

(Which is funny, because you'd think he'd turn _white_, but he didn't. I guess Wakka's just so tan his skin has forgotten how to _be_ white. Like the sun _stained_ him or something. Heck, I live in a _desert_ and I'm not that tan. I want to be. But I'm not.)

I screamed like a banshee and tackle glomped him to the ground. If Lulu were the jealous type, I would have feared for my life. But she's not, and I think Wakka secretly still hates me anyway. So no worries there.

Gippal emerged from the now docked air craft to see me sprawled across the chest of Wakka, squealing and kicking like an infant past feeding time.

"I thought he was married," Gippal threw out helpfully.

At this, Wakka stammered and sputtered and reverted to shades of crimson. I didn't bother to move.

"Rikku, you're embarrassing me, ya?"

I snuggled into his chest just to further annoy him.

"It's what I live for!"

Eventually I was tossed off my perch and we both stood upright and made eye contact (and for Gippal, it was literally _eye_ contact.) Wakka reached behind his neck to scratch awkwardly, a habitual action for him, if I recall correctly, and tried to figure out something to say after being caught off guard.

"Um..." he stuttered intelligently.

"Was he this prolific when you saved the world?" Gippal asked.

"Only when somebody mentioned machina."

"So...who's this?" Wakka finally decided to question.

"Oh, this is Gippal, my..." and I trailed off. What _was_ he? Certainly not my friend. And he may spit blood if I refer to him in less than complimentary terms.

"...pilot," Gippal finished.

"Oh," Wakka mused. "You look familiar, ya?"

My _pilot_ dead panned.

"I only saved the world."

"Did _not_," I hissed. "Paine and Yunie and I—where _is_ Yunie anyway?"

"Back at the village. She said she's been wanting to see you."

"And that's why I'm here," I chirped, absent mindedly bouncing on the balls of my feet.

Another awkward we-have-major-cultural-differences silence.

"So, how have you been?"

"Dandy!"

Lie. Complete and utter lie.

Auron would have seen right through it, too. Because he was Auron and had these amazing psychic dead powers and could read people's minds and stuff. But not Wakka. Gods. Never Wakka.

(Why did you marry him, Lulu? _Why_?)

"So...how have _you_ been?" I returned.

"Gods," Gippal breathed. "Could you guys be any more awkward?"

Wakka didn't hear, or at least pretended like he didn't.

"Good, I've got my baby boy and all, ya? He's growing day by day—Lulu can hardly keep up with him!"

And he looked happy when he said this.

So very, very happy.

And I found myself hating him for it.

But babies aren't supposed to be something you get angry over. They're supposed to provoke squeals of jubilation and exclamations of joy and the onslaught of advice that is the mantra of all mothers beforehand.

But I found myself staring dumbly at him, fighting to keep my emotions at bay. I fervently prayed Yunie was not on the mother to be list, but pushed the thought aside. Maybe the big surprise was that the world is secretly in peril and Yunie has found yet another way to sacrifice herself.

Doubtful. Tidus would probably beat her to it.

They're like the official poster couple for martyrdom.

"Baby?" Gippal repeated.

This brought me back to reality. Why would _he_ care about babies?

"Ya man. Vidina. He's a year old already. Can you believe it?"

"Wowzers!" I cried. "It's been that long?"

Wakka reverted back to scratching his neck. He must do this to pass the time while his brain is processing.

"I think so. How old are you now, Rikku?"

"Almost twenty."

"So nineteen," Gippal corrected.

I glared. "That's what I _said_."

Cue the infamous eye roll.

Wakka regarded us strangely for a moment—and I didn't like it. It felt like he was trying to pull an 'I'm old and wise now and therefore can spot romantic couplings in the making.' I wanted to stab him with something. Preferably something blunt so it would hurt more.

After a little more small talk ('So how's Brother?'—which came out sounding more like 'So how's Brudda?'—and I had to honestly reply that I had no idea if he was dead or alive at the current moment; though I admitted that I was leaning more towards the alive possibility as it were) Wakka began to lead us back to the village.

And it was just as dull and insipid as I remembered it.

There's, like, nothing to _do_ there.

I looked over at Gippal to see how he was adapting to the new climate, and was amused to find him glancing repetitively at the ocean, like it was some giant, colossal fiend he was incapable of defeating and it was going to reach out with its personified arms and devour him whole.

Ha; Gippal the Immortal, scared by water.

While I was mentally plotting all the ways I could use this newfound information to my sadistic advantage, I was alarmed to discover that we had somehow, in the midst of all my scheming, made our way to the village of Besaid in record time, and a smirking, sexy looking Lulu was there to greet us.

It's not fair. She always looks hot. Even when she was pregnant and gained, like, eighty bazillion pounds, she still was able to bring a man to his knees with the blink of an eye. And now, more so than ever, what with having a rambunctious toddler running around and sticking every inanimate object into every open orifice he could find, she _still_ looked like the runner up for the Ms. Luca Pageant. (I say runner up because Yunie would most undoubtedly win. Sorry Lulu. My cousin's hotter.)

Lulu actually smiled when she saw me, a rare feat in and of itself because, much like Paine, she usually resorts to simply smirking, and seemed to size Gippal up when her eyes fluttered from that of her husband to the newcomer.

She was _probably_ thinking of all the ways she could vanquish his ass with her black magic.

And since Gippal can't even caste Cure without going into a conniption fit, I doubt he'd put up much of a fight.

Standing behind Lulu's dress, all shy and timid like, was the aforementioned Vidina, appropriately sucking on some inedible object probably due to the arrival of teeth. At the very least, Lulu should have looked sleep deprived. But she didn't.

Vidina wobbled over to me and risked a glance northward. I waved awkwardly and pat it on the head.

"Rikku, what the hell? It's not a dog."

"I'd prefer if you refrain from swearing in the presence of my son," Lulu remarked, her voice deep and sultry as ever.

I stifled a smirk. Ha ha; Lulu: one, Gippal: zero.

But, almost as if to repent for the act, Gippal leaned over and tossed the kid over his shoulder and started to whirl him around at the speed of sound.

I dunno about you, but if some freaky one eyed stranger picked _me_ up before even saying hello, I'd be frickin' freaked out.

"Hey, that's my job, man," Wakka pouted.

Vidina giggled accordingly and I was caught off guard by the proximity of Lulu's impending voice.

"So how have you been, Rikku?"

I startled at the inquisition. She had somehow managed to stealth float over to my side.

"Oh! Good, good," I chanted, trying to ignore the incessant complaining that is Wakka ('Hey man, give him back now, ya? That's my son, not yours. Hey. _Hey_!') "We've been busy rebuilding Home and stuff. Pops was all like 'Rikku you hurry up on back here and help your ol' man out!' So I really had no choice but to oblige. Um, how's Yunie? Is she around?"

"She's in her home."

And something in the way she said that rubbed me the wrong way.

No, she wasn't at home. Home was the Celsius. Home was me, Brother, Buddy, Shinra, and Paine. Home was in the sky. Home was other people.

This was not home.

But I plastered on a faux smile of merry mirth and continued on my way.

Just as we were about to enter the village, I heard a very unpleasant sound, much akin to the ones Gippal made when he was busy dry heaving what he didn't already drink of the tomato juice, and turned around to find Gippal standing there, in the middle of the clearing, with a copious amount of baby spit adorning his face.

"_Ha_," I choked out. I didn't mean to. I totally did not want to sound immature in front of Lulu, of all people, who can look calm and at peace even when fighting Sin or Seymour (all the while without breaking a sweat or misplacing a hair,) but my mouth runs without my consent.

(To this day I am still fairly certain all Lulu would have to do is _glare_ at Shuyin and he would have backed down out of fear and respect. But as it goes, the rest of us actually had to resort to _fighting_. Paine did try the glaring part, though.)

"He's an…interesting character," Lulu noted.

"Who? Gippal? Pu-lease."

"How do you two know each other?"

"We've been stuck together since childhood," I blabbered absent mindedly while I watched Gippal try to wipe the gunk off his face. ('I _told_ ya you should have given him back to me, ya?') "He's the leader of the Machine Faction and stuff. Or so he claims. Baralai seems to be under the misconception that he played some part in saving the world." I looked over at Lulu. "Ya know, the Ribbons Ceremony?"

"Yuna did mention that," she recalled.

"Yeah, well, I hijacked his ship because there was _no_ _way_ I was gonna hitch hike all the way to Bevelle, and he decided to tag along. Sorta."

"He decided to tag along to his own ceremony," Lulu repeated incredulously.

"Something like that."

"…I see."

"Anyhow, I'm kinda glad your baby spit up on him. He must be able to smell evil people a mile away. Maybe he can sniff out the next undead madman before he builds a huge mechanical robot to destroy all of Spira?"

Lulu was somehow deep in thought. Which confused me. I didn't exactly say anything that thought provoking in the last five minutes.

"…Actually, Vidina typically doesn't care for strangers. He much more apt to cry or hide when someone approaches him."

"Or throw up," I finished happily.

"That may be because Gippal was spinning him around." Lulu cleared her throat. "Like a Frisbee."

"I pity his children," I finished for her, but she made another thoughtful face and I was convinced that Wakka and Lulu were involved in some sort of face making conspiracy because they kept looking at me funny.

I could hear Vidina giggling away as he spread the throw up all over the remainders of Gippal's face with his pudgy hands.

Ha; let's see if Nhadala wants him _now_.

It's strange to see the man of the year getting face painted by a toddler with his own phlegm.

It's stranger still to know that he let him.

o-o-o-o

I guess I could tell you how excited I was to finally see Yunie, but I don't want to freak you out.

(Though I must admit, if there was ever anyone who could convince me to go gay, I'd have to say Yuna would be it. She's just so pretty and so perfect and so awesome and _why_ _oh why_ _can't I be just like her_?)

I immediately went to tackle glomp her, but was stopped be the ever present Tidus, who I swear is never more than five feet away, when he thrust out his arm and threw me over his back, much akin to Gippal's previous actions with Vidina.

"Hey," I whined. "Lemme go! Lemme go!"

I was surprised to see that Vidina had migrated to Gippal's neck and was now peering at me quizzically from behind his head. I would have thought getting spewn upon would be enough incentive to give the thing back to its rightful owner.

"You can't tackle glomp her," Tidus explained, somewhat more seriously than I had ever heard him explain anything before (which was odd considering he was using a word like 'tackle glomp.' I invented that word. You can not say it seriously.)

"Alright, alright. Now lemme go. You're just doing this because you want to cop a feel, you big pervert."

Tidus responded by abruptly dropping me on the adjacent cot and letting me plop down on my butt with a resounding _thunk_. I bolted upright immediately after and went for Yuna once again. Just incase I hadn't heard him the first time, Tidus grabbed the top of my head and pushed me back down on the bed. "_No_ _tackle glomping_. I'm serious."

"I get it already!" I swatted at his hands like they were bugs intent on sucking the life out of me. "And yes, it's nice to see you too!"

_And if I find out that he somehow impregnated Yuna I swear to all that is holy I'll castrate him._

(I also swear that I can hear Auron's voice in the back of my head going, '…That's only slightly counter productive.' Followed by a dot dot dot. And some veering.)

This time I approached Yuna _slowly_ and _gingerly_ hugged her from _the side_ (since Tidus had already anticipated my frontal assault and was conveniently blocking the way.)

Tidus seemed to go somewhat green when he focused on Gippal for the first time.

"You didn't tell me she had a boyfriend," Tidus said to his newlywed, and it looked as though she was biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

I was biting the inside of my cheek too, but it was to keep from _vomiting_.

"Why does everyone pair me up with him?" I all but screeched. "Ewie!"

Tidus quirked and eyebrow. He was just all kinds of serious today.

I risked a glance at Gippal to see how he was handling it and was surprised to see Vidina mindlessly fiddling with his new friend's spikes.

"I don't date outside my species," Gippal responded without missing a beat, yet somehow waiting one just the same for dramatic effect. "Now Yuna, on the other hand, well, I'd gladly date her."

Tidus turned from green to greener.

"He's kidding, ya?" Wakka tried from behind the now two headed Cyclops. Which I guess technically wouldn't make him a Cyclops anymore. What with three eyes as opposed to one.

(…I had forgotten Gippal's affinity to flirt with all who were female and aesthetically pleasing.)

Which surprised me, because he hadn't hit on Lulu yet. Maybe the belts and the total ownage from before had scared him.

Oh, and the whole being married bit.

But that didn't seem to phase him now.

"Calm down, I'm just messing with you."

Tidus seemed to fume in the wake of Gippal's previous dismissal and I ingeniously decided to break the tension by voicing my dire need for some sort of food.

It worked rather well, because it distracted Tidus enough to turn his attention elsewhere as he slowly processed my request. Food, yes, food. Tidus had a tendency to forget to eat. Not so much because he was stupid like Brother but more because he just got too obsessively involved in whatever he happened to be doing beforehand. Like trying to go cave man on Gippal's head.

After some persuasion on Yunie's behalf, she managed to coax Tidus (and the rest of us, for that matter) into the kitchen for 'refreshments' and 'appetizers' while she busied herself making a 'pot luck supper.' I almost requested some tomato juice, just to see the look on Gippal's face, but somehow found it within me to refrain.

o-o-o-o

For those who do not know, pot luck suppers take forever and a day to actually make, so I decided to go for a walk.

I mean, I know that sounds crazy. To talk about nothing but seeing Yunie again and then when I finally do, to up and leave.

But the truth is, amidst all the hustle and bustle, it was beginning to sound like home, just not _this_ home, or the one Pops was rebuilding. It was beginning to sound like the deck of the Celsius, how when Buddy was trying to cook dinner against all of Brother's protests and locking himself in the kitchen ('I can cook! I no need your help! Go away!' 'Brother, no offense, man, you're great and all, but you can not cook.') Paine would then mumble something about how we were all doomed the day Brother discovered the wonders of an open flame.

At that point Buddy would usually resort to having Shinra pick the lock with some new high tech gadget (or a simple paper clip) and then proceed to tackle Brother to the floor and tie him up so the two could go about creating a dinner that was actually edible, and sparing our lives while at it.

It was only going to be a short walk. Maybe, like, five or ten minutes. Then I was going to return and convince Yunie to rejoin the Gullwings, despite Tidus and all. I momentarily contemplated the odds of kidnapping her, but then she'd be stuck on the Fuzzy Navel, and I didn't think my cousin deserved that sort of cruel and unusual punishment. Not yet, anyway. Maybe if she decides to start a family or something. But not yet.

I stopped when I realized I could go no further, compliments of the Besaid Ocean, and decided to sit at its shores and watch the sunset. It's a rare feat for an Al Bhed to watch the sunset, since they are usually so cruel and unforgiving back at Home, and only when we traveled elsewhere were we able to admire its beauty. Which is kind of hard in and of itself, to be honest, because it triggers so many memories of stifling heat and torrents of sweat and bad BO, but I figured I'd give it a shot since I was at a lack of better things to do. Besides moping, of course. But I guess that's sorta what I ended up doing anyway, sitting there all by myself, trying to stomach the fear of losing Yunie to a life of pot luck suppers and insipid villages and teething babies.

And I guess, in the two years that Tidus was off busy being dead (or a dream, or a time traveler, or whatever the heck he ended up turning into; I kind of dozed off during the epilogue), I had forgotten his innate ability to read me so damn well and was shocked to discover that, lo and behold, the tackle glomping natzi had followed me (he had gone more than five feet away from his beloved Yuna!) and was now sitting at my side and staring out over the ocean.

"Ya know, you never _did_ tell me about your boyfriend."

"Oh my gods, Tidus, I swear, you are such a girl sometimes!" I then punched him in the arm. "First of all, he is not my boyfriend, just someone I happened to save the world with, and second of all, he's only here because I stole his ship!"

"With him in it?"

"…I wasn't planning on that."

Tidus chuckled to himself and continued to watch the waves lap at the shore.

"I guess that makes sense. I can't exactly see you settling down with anybody."

"Damn straight!" I confirmed. "I'm not settling down _ever_."

"Never? Like, never ever?"

And it occurred to me that mental astuteness must not have been something high on the list when Yuna was choosing a significant other.

"Nope."

"Yeah, I said that once too."

I looked at him sideways for a moment. Then I turned my attention back to the ocean. It was now a startling shade of tangerine, like the sun was bleeding into the sea or something, and the whole spectacle kind of threw me for a loop, because oceans aren't supposed to be orange, they're supposed to be blue.

"So, after the Gullwings get resituated," I informed Tidus, just for his information, "we'll be back to pick up Yuna and all. You can tag along if you like, but we're not stopping at every city so you can sate you blitzball addiction."

Tidus leaned back on the heels of his hands and waited for me to continue. He was smirking wildly, and it was beginning to worry me, almost as though something was amusing him more than it should.

"And we'll be able to hunt for treasure again," I continued to babble, more for my sake than his. "And everything will be just like it was."

There was an unscripted pause as I resumed my previous riveting activity of staring at the ginger dyed waves.

"….Rikku," Tidus began, trepidation hiding within the confines of his words. "What's stopping you from going out on your own?"

I blinked. "Huh?"

"You're a big girl now, right?"

I nodded vigorously.

"Then why do you think you need the Gullwings to search for adventure? Why can't you just go out and find it on your own?"

I gnawed at my chapped lower lip. I had stopped using lip gloss ever since I had stopped living with Yunie, because she was the only one who ever bothered to carry the stuff around. I was too spastic and Paine was too apathetic. But that didn't stop me from stealing my cousin's. And she had so many flavors to choose from. My favorite was Blueberry Blast. Paine hated it on me, though. Said it made me look like I was oxygen deprived and if I didn't play my cards right, someone was liable to start mouth to mouth if I so much as dozed off in one of the taverns.

"No one kiss my sister," Brother muttered from the driver's seat. "Kiss my sister and _die_."

At any rate; that was not now and now was not then. I averted my attention back to a wildly grinning Tidus.

"It's no fun alone," I complained. "And Yunie's my _family_. Family sticks together, ya know?"

Tidus' brow seemed to furrow at this last comment, and that only made me worry all the more. He started combing the immediate proximity for wayward shells and forgotten pebbles that lay amidst the sandy shores of the island. He then silently began to toss them, one by one, into the shimmering ocean.

I could tell he was stalling for time. You throw pebbles into lakes, not oceans.

"Well what if," he began, drawing in a deep breath before continuing. "What if Yuna wanted to start her own family?"

"…She'd need to get permission."

"Permission! Permission from who?"

"…Me."

"Um, Rikku," Tidus tried again, lowering his voice and octave. "What if she _already_ chose to start a family?"

I gnawed at the inside of my cheek. "That's unacceptable."

"…Unacceptable," Tidus repeated, already sensing the impending storm.

"Yes. She's not allowed to start a family yet. The Gullwings have to get back together, Tidus! We have to start looking for treasure again!"

There was a very strangled sigh emitted on the blitzball player's behalf.

"What if…what if Yuna doesn't want to search for treasure anymore?"

"Yuna _always_ wants to search for treasure," I corrected him. "So she can give it all away to charity or something. You know her. Always putting others first and all that."

"I am aware of that…aspect of her personality."

"Aspect?" I repeated, scrunching up my nose. "Tidus, you shouldn't use big words you don't know the meaning to."

"I know the meaning to aspect," he dead panned.

I supplied a very resounding 'hmph' and continued to brood over the sunset, which was now finishing up on its descent for the evening.

"Just because you're not ready to settle down doesn't mean—"

"Yunie shouldn't be ready to settle down either! She's still young! And…and, well, young! Young people don't settle down! They live their lives like no tomorrow! They go out there and change the world! They make names for themselves! They—"

"…Rikku, Yuna's already done all that."

"Nu-_uh_," I spat. "She only saved the world twice. I'm sure there'll be another half crazed psycho plotting world domination sooner or later."

"So why don't _you_ take care of them?"

I flirted with the notion for about half a nanosecond. It didn't seem all the appealing.

"It's no fun alone."

Tidus laughed.

"Who says you're alone? You've got that…one eyed guy with you."

"First of all, his name is Cyclops," I corrected. "And second of all, he's nothing more than my pilot."

"Then why is he getting a statue in Bevelle?"

"He's getting a statue in Bevelle because he's all buddy buddy with Baralai, who, if I recall correctly, almost got us all _killed_ while we were trying to defeat Vegnagun." I paused. "You should go to Bevelle and, like, punch him or something. He almost eliminated your precious summoner."

"Nice try," Tidus leered. "I'm not leaving Yuna at your mercy. For all I know, you'll kidnap her and force her to reinstate the Gullwings."

Dammit! How did he figure it out?

"Besides, I'll be there for the Ribbons Ceremony anyway. We can go punch him together."

I paused.

"Well, _I_ can't punch him because _I'm_ part of the statue." I chewed on my lip. "But you can."

"Yeah, speaking of which, how come I never got a statue?" Tidus muttered, momentarily going emo on me as he veered out over the ocean.

"Maybe because you, like, died and stuff."

"That doesn't matter. I still should have gotten a statue."

I heaved a sigh that was so intense it pretty much depleted my lungs from all of their oxygen in one long exhalation.

"You really _are_ a girl, Tidus."

"If I was a girl I wouldn't have been able to get Yuna pregnant."

And I don't know why he chose to drop the bomb on me the way he did. I guess, now that I look back on it, he was hinting at it all along, but I was simply choosing to skip down the path of blissful ignorance and pretend like I _hadn't_ caught on to all the innuendo he kept lacing into every comment bestowed upon me.

So, I'd like to say I maintained a very mature, stoic composer, that my façade was that of 'congratulations!' and 'oh I'm so happy for you!' But in reality, we all know the type of girl I am, and it is not the type to sit there and keep all of her feelings bottled up inside of her simply because it is the cultural norm.

"You suck fiend balls!" I cried, this time punching him in the side of the face. I mean, it wasn't like a death blow or anything, and I could have gone a lot harder on him if I wanted to, but I did aim towards his visage as opposed to his arm.

He should be grateful; originally I had all intentions of aiming at his crotch.

"Ow, Rikku, cut it out!"

I then finished up my attack by leaping to my feet and delivering a swift kick to his gut. He winced a little—perhaps being a star struck lover had softened him—and I found that his abs weren't at all what they used to be. Auron would be disappointed. Tidus should have kept in better shape while he was gone.

"Why? _You're_ not pregnant. I can tackle glomp _you_!"

"This isn't tackle glomping! This is torturing!"

"Torturing?" I repeated, my voice cracking, as it is always liable to do under times of duress. "You want to see torturing? Try spending an entire day stuck on a ship with _Gippal_ and then we'll see who's whining about torture."

I settled on one more jab in the ribs and left it at that. If I ever had homicidal urges, I would most definitely choose to eliminate Gippal before Tidus. That's just me, but there's not really anyone else higher on my hit list except for possibly Shuyin, and he's already dead.

Though that didn't stop him from coming back the last time.

Regardless, I left my foster brother/cousin in law/somewhat good looking relative (that never really mattered because he sucked with machines anyway) sprawled out on the shores of Besaid as I indignantly stalked back off to the village, where I would have to swallow my bile for a third time this evening and make nice with Yunie who had chosen to _abandon_ me for this…this family business she seems so keen on all of the sudden. I was going to have to touch her tummy and giggle when the thing kicked. I was going to have to ask her all about name choices and organic baby food. I was going to have to inquire as to schools and diapers and bottles and…and maybe I'd be inquiring as to a different bottle, say one with alcoholic attributes, which I'm sure Gippal must have tucked away on the ship _somewhere_.

And maybe that's what I need. To go get plastered on the Fuzzy Navel. Because anything beats sitting around a table of newly wed mothers hell bent on sharing their joy with someone who would much rather be left alone.

o-o-o-o-o

Author's Notes

o-o-o-o-o

Okay. So there are _multiple_ reasons Rikku is so anti-baby in this story, I just have not revealed them all yet. (I figured I'd throw that out there before someone has a heart attack over the potential OOC-ness in this chapter.)

And major LOLZ to heaven-monument: beer is now an activity, not just a beverage.

Oh, and the reviewer riku made a good point: is Nhadala really Gippal's sister? Did they say that in the YRP dig? OO Gippal is all kinds of kinky in my story, now isn't he?

And I wanted to thank you all for reading and reviewing! It really means a lot to me! I audibly squeal and do a happy dance for every review. So make Vixen squeal! And leave a review!

(You don't have to, of course. But I really do squeal when I get reviews. XD)


	5. Chapter Four

Tidus had proved his wedding tackle was equipped and fully functional and I was in Gippal's ship getting drunk.

Or trying to, at any rate.

I kept looking for the good stuff, the stuff Gippal pulls out when he's trying to get laid or score some serious points with the big boys, but all I kept finding were half discarded cans of Al Bez. It was annoying me greatly, because I knew—_knew_—that there was something of higher proof, all I had to do was _find_ it. And you would think that would be easy on his ship of love and drugs and sex but apparently the Fuzzy Navel has more hidden compartments than I had originally anticipated, for the vodka was nowhere to be found.

I sighed, defeated, and slumped into the driver's seat to fume and listlessly sip the half finished can of Al Bez Gippal was busy nursing while we landed. I couldn't care less about his koodies at this point. I just wanted to get plastered. Or at least obtain enough of a buzz so I could go back there and face Yunie and her ever growing uterus of doom.

I heard the opening of the exit ramp and looked over my bare naked shoulder to see—the gods have no mercy—Gippal, of all people, entering the ship with a gargling Vinida in tow. He seemed more chipper than I had seen him in a long time, and if I hadn't been wallowing in self pity I may have commented on it or at least taken a mental note so as to collect one more piece of the puzzle that is Gippal. But as it were, I was not in the mood to play 'strip away the layers of the mysterious emo bishie' and all but grunted a response.

He brought The Pest with him. I do not like The Pest.

"Um, the pot luck thing is almost ready," he informed me, shifting the pudgy one from one jutting hip to the other. "And…and are you drinking my beer?"

"Beer? Gippal, this is piss water. In fact, I've tasted piss water better than this."

"When's the last time you drank piss-"

"Where's the good stuff?" I demanded, now stalking around the cabin. "Where's the vodka?"

"…It's a little early for the vodka, sweetheart," Gippal drawled, finding my current disposition amusing to say the least. "Why don't you go back to Yuna's and ask for some nice, wholesome, tonic water and we'll—"

"Vodka, Gippal," I ordered. "Now."

He looked at me for a minute, almost as if he were sizing me up for an attack (which is stupid, because we all know I can kick his butt any day) and then with a sigh, placed The Pest down on the metallic floor and swaggered over to the mini bar he had located in his…bedroom.

I should have known.

I poked my head in and saw him kneeling over some nondescript cabinet with an actual lock and key.

"Gippal, you keep your alcohol in a _safe_?"

The man in questioned released a quick hiss of breath. "No, of course not, Trampie. I just keep it locked up so annoying brats _like you_ don't get their messy little paws all over it."

"…I only have paws when I use my Beserker Dress Sphere…" I argued weakly, watching Gippal procure a bottle of what I could only hope to be one hundred proof vodka. If they made such a thing. Which I'm pretty sure they don't. But they should.

"Besides," Gippal continued, approaching me with the highly anticipated beverage, "You would not believe Nooj's dirty little habit of drowning himself in booze after a losing battle."

"Nooj looses battles?" I questioned incredulously.

There was a half nod of affirmation, and then an odd jerk of head that seemed to say Gippal was remembering more than he wanted to.

"It doesn't matter," he finished, handing me the bottle whole. "Go to town, kiddo."

In light of the current proceedings, I couldn't find it in me to care what Gippal was apparently hiding, and greedily grabbed at the long necked container of inebriation. I tossed some down the hatch right away.

"Still suck at holding your alcohol, Cid's Girl?"

"I can hold my alcohol better than you can," I spat back, residue beverage flying across the space between us.

"If you say so."

"…What? You're not gonna prove me wrong?"

And now that I think about it, that was all I had really wanted since day one. To get drunk with Gippal so I could momentarily forget all my problems. That's why I went to his trailer that night. That's why I kept hanging around his side. I wanted the obliviousness that came with a night of consuming way too much booze and a companion that wouldn't try to make any moves on me if Yunalesca returned from the Farplane and demanded he touch me with a ten foot pole.

And right now I really just wanted to get on top of something and rant.

I have a penchant for doing that while intoxicated.

"No, you're on your own this time," Gippal said, going back over to The Pest and tickling him into and epileptic fit of giggles. "I'm on babysitting duty."

"Oh, so you were assigned to exterminate the rodent infestation?"

Gippal's face got strangely contorted at this, and he looked over at me like I had just profaned some great sacred ritual and wasn't deserving of the air I breathe.

"It's a kid, Rikku."

And I stood there, wobbling slightly, for I am liable to do that even while sober, balance never being a skill I could add to my lacking itinerary, and watched as Gippal returned to his previous nauseating baby talk as he prodded and poked at the rolls of fat Vidina had covering his body.

"I don't like kids."

"Yes, I believe you've made that fairly obvious."

I snorted at the general ickiness of the entire situation and opted to drape myself shotgun as Gippal resumed the pilot position, only this time with a toddler in his lap.

"Yuna's pregnant," I shot out, guzzling back more vodka. Gippal didn't seem alarmed by this in the least.

"So is that why you're all pissy?"

"She didn't ask me first," I continued blithely. "She didn't ask me for permission."

"I'm sure you were the last thing on her mind in the heat of the moment," my comrade dripped satirically, and I had more self respect than to ask him to elaborate on the last remark.

It was now that Vinida chose to pull at Gippal's eye patch.

"Oh, gods, Gippal! He's going for your eye!"

"…It's not like he's gonna find anything."

I found myself instinctively cowering away from the newborn, out of fear for my ocular vision that Gippal had no problems giving up, as was clearly evident by his lack of, well, eyeball.

"So how come you hate babies so much?"

"How come you lost your eye?"

We both snarled in unison, for neither of us was willing to divulge in information about the requested.

"I mean, this can't all be stemming from losing Yuna," Gippal pressed on. "Even you don't over react _that_ much."

And I wanted to scream at him right then. I wanted to grab him by the collar of his shirt and holler into his ear until my cheeks were blue and my lungs caved in. I wanted to claw at his face—his perfectly immaculate, unblemished face—and make him bleed and make him writhe and make him feel—for maybe the first time in gods know how long—because how could he know what it's like to lose your family? How could he know the intimacy we formed on the Celsius? How could he even fathom looking out for anyone other than _himself_?

"You can't just keep throwing people away!" I exploded, and Gippal seemed somewhat taken aback by this comment.

"That was…unexpected."

"Woman are not disposable and friends are not forgettable!"

Gippal's nose scrunched up at this.

"Gods, Rikku, it's not like Yuna's _dying_."

"Well…well…well what do you know? Huh? I'm…I'm losing my home here, Gippal! I'm losing my family! I'm losing everything I had for a _second_ time! I'm all alone now, don't you understand? I'm all alone and I have nowhere to go, no one to follow—not that I follow people _normally_ but I certainly don't go at it _alone_—and maybe, if you pulled your head out of your ass long enough to notice what's going on around you, you'd see that there's meaning in relationships and not everything is measured by how big an orgasm you can get out of it!"

I'm pretty sure, had Vinida been at the talking age where babies repeat every word they hear, Lulu would have some very interesting words to say about her son's broadening vocabulary.

"And it's even worse with Home being destroyed and now this and—"

"And so boo hoo frickin hoo," Gippal cut in, fire in his eye and granite in his jaw. "You lost your precious little Gullwing concubine. Be grateful you had it to _begin_ with, Rikku. I lost my original Home too, and ya know what I had to return to?" He paused, waiting for an answer but already knowing I wouldn't offer one. "Oh, that's right, nothing! You at least had an airship full of people just as half whacked as you who were willing to put up with you!"

"Nu…Nu…" I sputtered, reeling and whirling and flailing due to the verbal backlash of Gippal's previous tirade. I was trying to catch my footing but the alcohol was making it difficult. "Nu-uh!" I finally spat. "Nu-uh! You had the Crimson Squad! You had Nooj and Baralai and—"

--and I stopped. Not because Gippal interrupted me, because he didn't. But he looked as though he was thinking of disemboweling me, with his own two hands, right there in front of Vidina, and if I didn't know him better I would have readied my daggers and had them singing halfway through his gut by now. I'd be back flipping and stabbing and dodging, I'd be pilfering and evading and slicing, I'd be dancing and slashing and hacking, because I'd be fighting for my _life_ if he were to act on all the rage that was currently pent up in his face. And even if I summoned my Machina Maw, it wouldn't be enough, because Gippal was killing me with his stare and his throbbing jugular was dancing at _way_ too fast a pace to be considered normal.

"Don't," he hissed, leering dangerously close to my face. "Don't _ever_ mention that name in front of me again."

And he didn't yell. Gippal doesn't really yell. He never has. I somehow doubt he ever will. When he gets mad, he just seethes and glares and occasionally hisses, which is how you know you've pushed him too far. I discovered this in middle school. I could only tease and taunt him for so long before he finally whirled around and cracked—gods, it was practically _audible_—and then I'd be left standing in the wake of an impending tsunami, something so powerful and so irate it could take you down without a second's notice.

Only I never got to crack at him. I could yell and I could whine and I could cry, but I couldn't strike fear into anybody's heart the way Gippal could. And I suppose that's why he was pretty much left alone by all the local bullies, all the kids who had balls too big for their boxers. They'd leave me alone, because it was no secret that when provoked, I could totally kick ass, and they left Brother alone for the most part, because he was Cid's kid after all, but every once in awhile, one of them would grow brave, and one of them would jump my sibling when he wasn't looking. And it was violent and it was gruesome and he suffered a lot at the hands of less dignified men. And that was a reality Gippal knew nothing about. It was a life he never had to live. People didn't hide behind trash cans and jump out and break his nose on his way home from school. They didn't torment him endlessly when the grown ups weren't watching. They didn't threaten him and provoke him and piss on him like the way they did to Brother. Because Gippal could hold his own, and Gippal knew how to work it to his advantage, and everyone admired if not revered him for it. And what did it all come down to? Who was really the better man? Because Brother lacked brains and charisma it's alright to designate him as the school punching bag?

…And how could Gippal not know this?

How could someone with so much influence and power not help those in need?

He just looked the other way. For nineteen years he had been looking the other way.

"Do you have any idea what they did to him?" I asked.

I didn't care how cryptic it sounded, seeing the anger and the flood of memories it thus provoked made me realize Gippal had _nothing_ on me.

"I was the one who set his nose," I continued. "I set his nose and you let them break it."

Gippal's mouth opened and closed.

"Rikku…what the hell?"

The boiling heat that was coursing through Gippal's veins simmered down to a mere bubbling, and the rage that was etched so firmly into his features seeped away due to the sudden onslaught of confusion.

And somewhere in the midst of it all, The Pest decided now would be a good time to cry.

I officially hate babies.

"I guess now would be a fan-orgasmic-tastic time to head back for the lovely pot luck supper Yuna has planned," I said, sarcasm dripping off my very words. "Maybe I'll mount her table and tackle those annoying Bevellian issues I seem to have an infatuation with while plastered."

"No you won't," Gippal grumbled, rising from his seat and tossing Vidina over his shoulder in a lame attempt to stop the crying.

I glared.

"Ooooh, it annoys me how you always act like you're right all the time!"

"…But I am," he assured me, staring down at me countenance, which was insipidly draped across the seat. "I took a tip from the dead guy," Gippal continued, and it took me a minute to remember that Cyclops often referred to Auron by the vague and nondescript title of 'The Dead Guy.'

"You couldn't get drunk off that bottle if you nursed it like a newborn."

I blinked stupidly.

"I gave you distilled tonic water, Trampie."

I continued to blink stupidly.

"Only gods know why you didn't taste the difference. Maybe all that sand finally went to your head."

I voiced my discontent my throwing said bottle across the space of the cockpit and watching, quite satisfied, as it shattered on the nearby wall.

Vidina found this amusing and stopped crying long enough to giggle.

"Did you honestly think I'd want to deal with a hung over companion at a family pot luck?"

Since I did not attempt a coherent sentence, for fear all that would come out was a shrill, inaudible squeal, Gippal answered the question for me.

"No. No, I don't want to deal with your word vomit and your literal vomit and your emotional vomit. If you wanna get drunk wait do it on your own time. Just because _you_ can't find happiness doesn't mean you have to go stealing Yuna's."

"I am not trying to steal Yuna's!"

That time I did squeal. And crack. Characteristically.

"Good," Gippal confirmed. "Then try acting mature for two hours so we can go eat dinner with the grown ups."

And with that, he left.

o-o-o-o

As it turns out, my ten minute walk quickly turned into a sixty minute endeavor, what with my chat with Tidus and my pit stop at the Fuzzy Navel and the consequential fuming spree I went on shortly there after.

I was livid. How _dare_ he speak to me so condescendingly? How _dare_ he presume to have the upper hand in family affairs when this was, indeed, not his family? How _dare_ he think he's above me in maturity when he was the one who got his jollies out of rolling around with generic NPC's and guzzling beer for breakfast and rum for lunch and wine for dinner?

I reach for the vodka once and get pegged as the irresponsible one because of it.

At least I don't _drink_ and _drive_.

If Yunie ever had the gall to do a room check on the Fuzzy Navel, like she was notorious for doing on the Celsius ('Rikku, what is this chewing tobacco I found under your mattress? Did you buy this in Luca?' 'No, I stole it in Luca.' 'Rikku! We do not chew tobacco! We are ladies!' Brother would then helpfully point out: 'I no lady; can I chew tobacco?' The answer was no.) If Yunie were to do a thorough once over, she would find Gippal's half discarded plethora of Al Bez bottles encircling the pilot's chair.

Okay, so maybe that was a slight exaggeration. There wasn't really, like, a pile of them or anything, because regardless of Gippal's fickle nature, he was surprisingly neat. But there was one bottle opened in the cup holder. And he shouldn't have been operating heavy machinery in lieu of it.

Distilled tonic water. Please. I didn't even know they _made_ such a thing.

They probably don't. He probably just pulled that out of his ass, where he seems to keep a large assortment of things.

One can only be kept occupied pacing up and down the length of a beach for so long, and after about fifteen minutes of such I decided it was time to go back, swallow my pride (along with my bile) and join the others in this highly anticipated—as Gippal so astutely called it—'pot luck thingie.'

I don't think that man has ever eaten a decent three course meal for dinner. He probably lives off booze and onion rings. And the occasional take out. (I wonder what comes first, the pizza or his partner?)

Eventually I staggered back to the village, my adrenaline wearing off from the previous confrontation. The sun had long ago sunk beneath the waves, and I was at the mercy of the stars and full moon for guidance. It didn't matter; I still tripped, even if I was sober. I probably would have tripped in broad day light. I'm agile in stealing, just not in walking. It's comparable to how Paine can break through any fiend's skull in one hit yet ceases to be able to open her own soup cans.

"Rikku. Open this for me. Now."

"…What? You can't open a soup can?"

"Would I be asking if I could?"

Dammit. I was even beginning to miss her. And even if she _was_ ridiculously emo, she was surprisingly nice. Blunt. Monotone. Rough. Caustic. But nice.

I think her and Auron would have gotten along.

Or, The Dead Guy, as Gippal has so affectionately dubbed him.

'What? You expect me to keep all your friends straight? I wasn't _there_, Rikku. From what I hear, there was a dumb ass hottie, a moping dead man, an anal religious fanatic, a dominatrix in denial, a barely articulate ronso, and your cousin summoner. The hell do I need names for?'

The hell did we need _him_ for?

As I ventured forth into the proximity of Yunie's hut, close enough in radius for the interior light to splash down onto the dew shone grass, I heard a slight crackle from behind me. Alarmed, and only slightly over anxious, I spun around and unsheathed my daggers, only to be greeted with the quite bemused face of said cousin summoner, cradling her abdomen as if its contents were actually desirable.

Had she been doing that all along and I had just been too dense to notice?

"Yunie." I intelligently remarked. I should have added 'the sky is blue and the grass is green' to my list of notable exclamations.

"Rikku," she returned, equally as astute.

I think we should run for clergy.

"…What are you doing out here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked, like it was perfectly normal for her to be scowering the deserted beaches alone with a baby inside and no weapons at hand. "Looking for you!"

I stood, dumbfounded. "Well, here I am."

"Yes, Rikku, I can see that." She giggled. "But where did you go?"

"The beach," I answered simply.

"That's…a very broad location here in Besaid."

"…I had to go back to the ship to get something," I lied. Well, not really. I went there to get vodka. It's not my fault I couldn't find it.

"Did you happen to run into Tidus while you were out?"

She chose now to sit on a conveniently placed tree branch, just broad enough in size to support her now widening frame. Funny how I notice all these things after the sun goes down.

"More like tripped over him," I supplied. And that could have been taken literally, especially if you knew Tidus as well as we did. We never made for a very dexterity ridden group. Lulu's belts kept her movements to a minimum, Wakka was just too damn lazy to dodge anything, preferring instead to take frontal assaults head on, which worked, considering his thick skull and all, Kimahri practically shook the ground when he made an attempt to avoid anything smaller than a Tiamat, Auron skillfully reflected all opposing characters, Tidus fell flat on his face, and Yunie just casted Protect on herself. I hid behind the scenes and stole things.

In light of my current—previous—group, we weren't much better, except Paine was pretty good at avoiding bullets. Don't really have to think hard as to why.

"He blurted out your big surprise," I came forth with, figuring it was best to settle these matters quickly rather than dance around the subject at hand. I preformed that feat enough with my father. We were capable of doing the most intricate of verbal waltzes around any controversial topic, and it could last for weeks at a time. We'd take breaks to eat dinner and go to the bathroom.

Yuna smiled. "I figured as much. He was never any good at keeping secrets, now was he?"

"…He did a pretty good job of negating to tell us his father was Sin," I replied emphatically. "But other than that, he was the official audio commentary."

"He still is."

"Yeah, but now he can't blame his blatant stupidity on Sin's toxin."

"He tried to get away with the excuse of prego-brain," Yuna recalled with a nauseating fondness that made me inexplicably want to gag on a part of myself.

"He's not even the one who's pregnant!"

"And you think that stops him?"

I paused.

"No."

You would think being, like, dead or something for two years would have changed him, but apparently not. Yuna matured _so much_ and Tidus was just as stupid as when we left him.

Can't say I envy her. The guy may be good looking, and have a body to die for, but his head was all hallow and his brain matter was grey.

"Rikku…" Yuna began. "Are you alright?"

"You're pregnant," I shot out. Then stopped. Silence followed.

"Yes. I am aware of that."

"Yeah, well…you're pregnant."

I saw no need for further explanations.

Apparently Yuna can read me like a book, and I guess it's not all that hard, unless you're stupid or something like Shinra (the kid could build a power converter out of mirrors and a handful of paper dixie cups but I think he forgot he was the only one who bothered wearing a mask, because he absolutely sucked at reading facial emotions. If you did not audibly say, 'I am mad right now, Shinra. I want to punch you in the face. Twice.' He would have absolutely no idea you were contemplating homicide.)

"And this bothers you?"

"Of course it bothers me!" I replied. "I don't want babysitting duty on the Gullwings!" After seeing Yuna's facial expression change to something that resembled confusion, I quickly continued, "After we get resituated and all, you can't let Paine look after the kid, because, well, she'll emotionally scar him for life, and you certainly can't let Brother do the job, otherwise he'll turn up _dead_. And maybe Buddy would be a decent babysitter, if he wasn't constantly watching after Shinra to make sure he didn't electrocute himself or fall out of the emergency exit hatch."

"…Shinra's too big to fall out of the emergency exit hatch," Yuna noted dimly. For some reason, that was the comment that resonated with her. Not, say, the one where I pointed out THE GULLWINGS GET RESITUATED. I should have hired a singing quartet to give her a musical telegram, maybe then my innuendo would have gotten through.

Maybe it did get through. And she was just choosing to ignore it.

"Yunie, we did not discuss this," I whined, like I was asking for a lolly pop or dessert before dinner (which Pops would have predictably said, 'go right ahead; but if you give yourself a stomach ache, don't come whining to me! And puke in the bathroom, dammit, cuz I sure as hell ain't cleaning it up.') It was somewhat similar to what Gippal would say, which is why I guess I never much minded the way he talked to me.

(Then again, he seemed ridiculously fond of The Pest for reasons unknown to mankind, so maybe he would make for a more gentile father figure, if he ever settled down long enough to impregnate some unlucky female with his deformed sperm and her reluctant egg.)

"I was unaware we were supposed to discuss…such matters."

"Yunie, we're the Gullwings! We discuss everything! That's what you said when we formed the team!"

"…But I was referring to accepting treasure hunts and looking for spheres!"

"Yeah, well, same thing!"

"Nu-uh!"

And I had to smirk, because she picked that phrase up from me.

(Along with, like, a bunch of other less admirable habits, such as burping after dinner and gargling her hi-potions.)

What? It _works_ better if you gargle it!

"Rikku, what's really bothering you?"

I made some strange sound of defeat and plopped down on the grass, not really caring that the dew was seeping through my shorts and making my butt all damp and chilly. I'm sure Gippal would have had a field day mocking me when I returned to the hut for dinner, but right then I was more preoccupied with feeling sorry for myself as opposed to looking ahead and anticipating potentially embarrassing incidents before they happened.

"Yunie, are the Gullwings _ever_ going to get back together?"

There was a brief interlude of reprieve between us as Yuna sat and contemplated the matter.

"Well, I suppose after the hiatus—"

"Yeah, but what are you gonna do about the kid?"

My cousin blinked. "It's not excess cargo, silly."

Yes it is. But I kept such musings to myself.

"Can't you just leave it with Tidus?" I begged, and maybe I would have gotten down on my knees for dramatic effect if I were not already situated on my butt.

"…No." Yuna answered simply.

"Well, alright, I _guess_ you can bring Tidus with you," I grumbled. "But I don't want him getting in the way of our sleepovers!"

"Rikku…"

"Or our all nighters! We always pulled all nighters on a Friday! Even Paine agreed to it."

"I think maybe it's time…"

"And, like, every Thursday night he has to let you sing and dance for us, no matter _how_ horny he is. And on Wednesdays we go out and play cards. And Mondays are ice cream days and Tuesdays—"

"…That perhaps we grew up?"

And the air caught in my throat and the words lodged in my mouth. I was rendered incapable of forming a sentence and opted to sit there and stare at her blankly.

"No." I answered. "No, no thank you."

"…Rikku, I don't think Paine is coming back," Yuna said, two decibels above an inaudible whisper.

"She's replaceable," I blabbered stupidly. Not really, but I'm sure we could find some other sultry, mysterious character to serve in her stead. We already did it once when Lulu went out and got impregnated on us.

"And we still have a ship and stuff," I continued.

"Then why aren't you using it now?"

She said the latter so gently and gossamer that it could hardly be considered confrontational, but it was all the same.

"Ooh!" I heaved. "That's because I got stuck rebuilding Home!"

"See?" Yuna prodded. "Life is pulling us in different directions."

"No…no it's not!"

I could never tell if my stubborn streak was something I inherited from my father or something that was the by product of hanging around Brother for so long. Either way, it was an aspect of my personality that wasn't going anywhere, and I saw no reason to confront the character flaw now.

"Rikku," Yuna began, voicing dipping to that of a whisper. "Have you ever been in love?"

"What?" I snapped. "No! Ewie!"

"Then I guess this will be hard to understand, but I love my child, Rikku, even if it's not born yet. And I can't keep throwing myself in danger every time something life threatening shows up because…because it's not just me anymore, ya know? Now I have a family to think of, and they need me."

"Well…we need you too! And aren't we family?"

"Yes…" Yuna stated cautiously, then quickly added, "Well…no…"

"Whaddya mean no?"

"I mean…Rikku…Tidus and Lenne come first…"

"_Lenne_?" I screeched. "You're naming the thing _Lenne_? No! N-O. I forbid you to name it after the lover of the maniac who nearly destroyed all of Spira! Why don't you pop out a boy next time so you can name it Seymour? That'll really be a riot and a half!"

"…Well, we are anticipating siblings," Yuna remarked in all seriousness.

"Yunie!" I whined. "What's gotten into you? You weren't supposed to go off and make babies yet! This wasn't in the plan!"

"I wasn't aware we had one, Rikku."

"Well…well we did! And in that plan we were supposed to stay Gullwings forever and ever! I mean, I understand if you need to take a hiatus every two years or something, but you can't just abandon us like this! That's just…that's just not fair! You're being selfish! Stop thinking of yourself, Yunie!"

Never mind that was probably the most hypocritical thing to ever fly out of my mouth, next only to, 'Oh, that's Gippal, he's the leader of the Machine Faction. He's annoying, but he can be alright,' which is what I said when Yuna first set eyes on the bleach head at Djose Temple. I was upset and wasn't thinking straight. Now, I mean. Not then. But apparently I was suffering from some severe mental aberration then, too. For the only time Gippal was ever 'alright' was when he was passed out on his couch, because then he was silent. Otherwise, he was irritating as hell. 'Oh, that's distilled tonic water, by the way. I'm not actually man enough to _have_ vodka on my ship.'

And in response to my last remark, Yuna fell victim to the onslaught of pre-pregnant hormones, and actually began to sniffle. At this, I felt horrible. More horrible then I had ever felt in my entire life. Gippal was right, I was stealing her happiness, wasn't I? But I didn't mean to! It just…happened.

"Yunie! You're not allowed to cry either!" I said, as I crawled over to her side, immediately overtaken by remorse and guilt, and wrapped my arms around her in a feeble attempt to stop the snivels.

It was to no avail, because they came anyway, and I could do nothing but hold her as she cried quietly into my shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she choked out, like she actually owed me something, like I was actually right and she was actually wrong, like she actually didn't have the right to start a family and I actually had the right to tell her not to.

"Don't be sorry. I'm sorry. I'm stupid, Yuna. I'm stupid and I love you, okay? And I'm not ready to let you go just yet."

But it wasn't just her. I mean, she was a large majority of it, but I didn't want to lose the atmosphere on the Celsius in general, I didn't want to lose my lifestyle, I didn't want to lose the comfort of our make shift family, since most of our parents were dead and our friends were all eaten by Sin or making babies or attending to less admirable duties than sphere hunting and world saving. (Leading the Ronso race comes to mind.)

Yuna wiped her eyes and tried to regain her composure, and I assured her that Lenne would probably be a great addition to the Gullwings once she was born, and we could get her her own baby dress spheres and all. (Though I made sure to point out Tidus would have to fend for himself when it came to wardrobe preferences, because I was not busting my rear to get a fourth set of clothes for every sphere we found when he didn't exactly wear a shirt to begin with. And I really shouldn't be talking, but whatever. I dehydrate easily.)

"I know," she assured me, gently rubbing the tip of her nose on the back of her hand. "I know, Rikku, I know."

I helped her up and brushed away the remainder of her tears with my left arm warmer. At this point, I was ready to offer it to her as a tissue if need be. But thankfully, her snot didn't run with the same fervor that Brother's did.

"You can have your baby," I stated gently. "We'll work around it."

No, we won't. And I knew that, too. But I had just made her cry, for gods' sake, and what soulless girl makes pregnant women cry?

Yuna clung to my arm as we walked hand in hand back to her house. And that was so like her, now wasn't it? Loyal even if beaten within an inch of her life and naming her off spring after malevolent forces that threatened to destroy Spira.

"My pot lucks are pretty good," she confided in me, the color in her face slowly returning in the light of the hut. "I made extra for tonight. There's plenty to go around."

"I'm sure there is. Say, you got any tomato juice?"

"No, why?"

"No reason, just wondering."

o-o-o-o

And I'd like to say Gippal made a fool of himself and everyone hated him and they all continued to look at me with pitiful expressions adorning their faces as they sat in wonder and awe of his blatant stupidity. 'Aw, Rikku, you poor thing,' they'd say. 'How do you put up with him? You must be so brave, I wish I was more like you.'

I'd like to say he told inappropriate jokes and got on everyone's nerves, that he belched at all the wrong times and said all the wrong things.

But as it turns out, everyone loved him. Everyone except Tidus and me. Which only further proves my suspicion that we were secretly twins separated at birth and ostensibly a very large amount of time (which technically wouldn't make us twins, now would it?)

We were the only two who could see through the charade and knew that deep down Gippal was secretly the no good son of the devil, the spawn of darkness itself, evil incarnate. We made intimidating hand gestures at him to get our point across. Really? No. Tidus just sat and glared every time Gippal was able to elicit a giggle from his newlywed with one of his primitive attempts at a joke and I attacked my food with all the vigor of a pent up serial killer.

Lulu kept commenting about how good he was with children, Vidina hadn't left his lap all night, and even my cousin couldn't help but be amused by his less than stellar nature. I suppose she's not to blame, though, because she was pregnant and therefore apt to do highly illogical things.

Wakka was about two steps away from getting out a loose leaf notebook and taking notes on how to be a better father, because Gippal is, of course, as we all know, the guru on such things. I had to repress the urge to foretell everyone I had caught him red handed with every Al Bhed on the island, even the male ones, but that would have been lying because I had only caught him with the female ones, and only half of them at that.

I went to pour myself another glass of water from the sink (no alcohol, I had already checked) and was surprised to hear Gippal come up behind me.

"You look perfectly pissed."

I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn't see.

"They all like you," I grumbled, waiting for the cup to fill to the rim. "And I don't."

Gippal seemed to take this into consideration for a moment, and then whacked me on the shoulder with the side of his hand. "Hurry up, I'm thirsty."

"She's naming it Lenne, did you hear?" I hissed, like we were coworkers gossiping around the office water cooler. "Lenne! After Shuyin's dead girlfriend! The kid is going to need therapy when she finds out her namesake ten years from now!"

"Well, you got any better ideas?" Gippal drawled. "I'm sure they're open to suggestions."

"…And she wants to have more!" I continued, the corresponding horror evident in my voice. "They'll be, like, a herd! Or a pack! Of fiends!"

"Pity your mother didn't share your astounding foresight."

Oh, I _had_ a ready remark for that one, but Tidus beat me to it.

"Hey, Nipples, mind if I barge in?"

Sometimes I wish Tidus was Al Bhed. And that he was born sometime within my generation. That way we could have been best friends growing up.

Gippal slowly turned around to shoot a look of ocular arsenic over his shoulder, to which Tidus responded with a toothy grin.

"This is my sink," Tidus pointed out, literally, jabbing a finger in the direction of the faucet.

"I'm in line," Gippal returned, reverting to his previous activity of mindlessly pushing his hand against my shoulder.

"And stop touching her," Tidus ordered. "She's not your sister."

Gippal paused.

"She's not yours, either."

"Well, yeah, but we saved the world together and stuff." Tidus leaned in for the kill. "That makes us intimate."

And he probably shouldn't have said that, because the word 'intimate' for Gippal takes on a whole different meaning, but none the less Tidus delivered the conceit right there into Cyclops' lap, and I had to stand, breath bated, praying to whatever deity resided in the heavens that no one would resort to first degree murder on my account.

"I saved the world with Brother, too," I chimed in, stepping between the two. "So, it's kind of like a rite of passage, ya know? All siblings save the world together!"

"…All family saves the world together," Tidus added. "Yuna's your cousin, too."

And he made a good point, what with the first time around being practically a family affair for him an all. And now that he had surfed the waves of time and created a new family for himself, he did not want to let Gippal in on the accomplishment.

'This is my home. Stop stealing my family and stop stealing my lime light.'

And I knew better than anyone else in that hut just how protective one can get when defending their rights to their loved ones.

Well, it's nice to know Gippal didn't receive the seal of approval from everybody.

But that must have been a new feat for him, because I couldn't remember the last time someone _didn't_ fall in love with Gippal on the spot, besides my Pops and Brother and Buddy. And they all lived with me, so they didn't count.

Gippal seemed to waver uncertainly, not used to his charm not working and consequently getting him whatever he wanted. He was unsure of how to respond to such, and it was clearly evident through his body language and facial expressions.

He couldn't even resort to the old excuse, 'it's because I'm Al Bhed, isn't it?' because I was Al Bhed, too, and Tidus liked me just fine.

"He's kind of annoying," Gippal threw out. "Why'd you bring him back?"

"We didn't," I answered, in all honesty. "He just kind of…popped out of the water."

Gippal's eye twitched at the mentioning of water, and Tidus was actually perceptive enough to pick up on it.

"That's right," Tidus boasted, hands on hips. "I can swim."

Okay. Now this was entering the realm of pathetic.

"That's enough, boys." And I hated to break it up, but I had to for fear they really would go at it for my sake (or Yuna's, as it were. I was probably just a pawn for dominance. That's usually how it goes.)

Lulu seemed to smell the tension, what with her ultra keen Lulu senses, and said from the table, completely calm and at peace as usual, "Say Rikku, why did you choose to leave three months early for the Ribbons Ceremony?"

I paused. I did?

Come to think of it, I couldn't even remember what the invitation said. Or what happened to it, for that matter. It was probably buried under a pile of machina in the endless black abyss that is my room, never to be seen or heard from again. I was never very good at keeping track of things, which I guess is fairly evident, because you would think that with all the hoop-la involved around receiving that invitation I would have at least had the sense to hang onto it. But now that I was faced with the matter head on, I didn't even know why I was in such a rush to get to Bevelle to begin with.

"Um, we wanted to RSVP in person?" I suggested.

Lulu arched a superior eyebrow, and I wished I was able to pull that off but every time I tried Brother just asked me if my contact lens had fallen out.

Seeing she was somehow not convinced, I added hopefully, "Pit stops? Lots of them?"

"We came to visit Yuna and then we're going home," Gippal explained, too much authority in his voice for my liking.

"_What_?"

"I'm the pilot," he offered in the stead of a decent explanation that actually made sense. "And I say after this we're heading home."

"Gippal," I hissed, getting as close to him as my gag reflex would allow. "There is no _Home_ to return to."

"The Remnants Of Home," he corrected. "There, is that better?"

"That was a terribly original nick name. Come up with that one our your own, then?"

And I kinda wanted to hug Tidus for delivering that last remark, because, hell, it was pretty funny, but at the same time I wanted to turn around and punch him because he had no idea what we were talking about.

"Tidus, hush!" I said, finger to lips. I admit that was pretty juvenile, but I was in the midst of trying to figure out some way to convince Gippal to stay away from 'The Remnants Of Home' for as long as possible. Witty comebacks were the last thing on my mind.

I looked over the table and, for some strange reason, saw that Yunie's eyes had grown to the width of economy sized marshmallows and her face had a pallor that would rival the snow found at the peak of Mt. Gagazet.

I squinted in response. Her expression looked comical, but I couldn't fathom why me returning to 'The Remnants Of Home' was of such great dismay to her.

"Gippal!" I whined, after some conveniently placed awkward silence. "Why do we have to hurry Home? What's there at Home that's so important, anyways?"

"Ah, it's not Home," Tidus pointed out. "It's: _The_ _Remnants Of Home_."

"That's getting old now," Gippal grumbled, and it looked as though he was fresh out of comebacks too.

I can't imagine the embarrassment that follows from losing to Tidus in a battle of wits.

I imagine it was a lot like the embarrassment that Auron felt when he realized Nooj had decided to steal his shtick as the cranky old guy—and even had the gall to pilfer his color, too! Gee, Nooj, at least get your own shade. Red was Auron's. I'm pretty sure even Vidina knows that.

'Yes, but I never got the pleasure of having a mechanical leg.'

I swear, sometimes it's like the man never died. One of these days I'm going to have to take a trip to the Farplane just to duke it out with everyone's favorite scar eyed hero. Tell him to stay where he belongs and get out of my head and stop interrupting my internal monologues. The audience doesn't find him half as funny as they find me.

"Well, at least stay the night," Yuna proposed, fiddling something fierce with the hem of her skirt. "We do have a guest room, after all."

"But it only has one bed, ya?" Wakka could be heard muttering to his wife. She elbowed him in the chest. They really did operate like an old married couple.

"Trampie can just sleep on the floor," Gippal dismissed, flicking my nose for emphasis.

As I rubbed my violated facial feature, and cursed vehemently in Al Bhed, I have to admit I was pretty much done with the insult and moving on by the time Tidus came to my rescue.

I guess he wasn't used to the way I let Gippal talk to me.

"What did you just call her?"

Gippal paused, mid stride, stuck somewhere between me and the sink.

He probably thought he was being benevolent, his remark nothing more than a surrender to letting me stay. And I somewhat appreciated it on a very basic level, because I know Gippal couldn't pull generosity out of his butt if he tried. And the wayward insult was just the silent agreement his balls were too big to allow him to say.

"I call him Cyclops," I offered, as if the nick name Cyclops was just as offending as being referred to as a tramp.

"…Bambie," Gippal articulated. "I said Bambie."

"Did not—"

"I heard Bambie!" Wakka volunteered, anxious to avoid confrontation, and probably also anxious to avoid picking sides. (And as we all know, he probably wouldn't side with me anyway.)

"Rikku, what did _you_ hear?" Lulu questioned, the voice of reason amidst all of our hyperactive ones.

And it occurred to me, with startling clarity, that Lulu was letting me decide how this situation played out. I was the one violated, after all, and she must figure it only fair I have a say in how said violation was handled.

"…I heard Bambie," I agreed weakly, not wanting to have to pitch my arch rival against my second cousin.

I wonder who would win?

"You don't have to let him speak to you like that, Rikku," Tidus whispered harshly, stepping over to me and invading my personal space.

"Tidus," Lulu cut in. "Rikku heard Bambie. And that's all that matters. Now let it go." As if to prove her point, she abruptly brought up the shade of leaf green they were choosing to paint Vidina's nursery.

Yuna, at a loss, torn between her mentor and husband, followed suit and started discussing with great vigor the benefits of painting the room a soothing tint as opposed to a more bright, obnoxious one, like say canary yellow.

I stood there awkwardly and pulled at my hair.

"That was him trying to be nice," I explained quietly.

"Well if that was him being _nice_, I'd hate to see how he treats you when he's being _mean_."

I didn't bother to tell him it was much, much worse.

I learned that in Secondary School. So did Brother.

Gippal's night, not to mention charisma, now ruined, he opted to retire for the evening, saying the pot luck supper was incredible and how he wished the water was this clean in Home.

…Leave it to Gippal to compliment someone's tap water. And make it sound convincing, at that.

He turned to head down a short hall that dwindled into the shadows at the far side of the hut when Tidus hastily shot his arm out and grabbed Gippal by one of his monstrous, boney shoulders.

"You're sleeping outside," he hissed.

Even Gippal knew better than to argue.

(Tidus was strong enough to save the world, after all.)

And this was his home turf. Men get strangely territorial when they are not the guest. If we were in the Bikanel Desert, I wonder if Gippal would have surrendered as easily as he did.

Then again, perhaps he finally felt a small morsel of guilt over calling me a tramp all these years.

…No. He probably just didn't want to piss Tidus off. After all, as Tidus himself had wasted no time in pointing out, _he_ can swim.

"Fine."

He then did an abrupt turn around and slithered out into the night. Probably to find solace on the Fuzzy Navel, only I doubt he'd be resorting to the locked up tonic water he had tricked me into drinking.

"Now go make Yunie laugh, you were always good at that," Tidus directed, pushing me gently towards the table. I was torn—for some odd, inexplicable reason that I don't think I'm capable of explaining even _now_—between enjoying the rest of the meal with four of the bestest friends I had ever known, or running out into the night after my comrade to see how he was fairing after being owned for the first time in his life.

There was a lot of unspoken emotion behind Tidus' eyes, and I'm pretty sure I picked up on most of it even without him saying. For a moment it looked like he was pitying me, thinking 'here is a girl strong enough to kick sin's ass yet ceases to be able to stand up for herself in light of masculine mockery'—well, he wouldn't say that because Tidus doesn't use words like 'cease' and 'mockery' (he does use words like 'ass' though)—and I found myself quite disturbed to be looked at like that from someone I fought beside for so long.

Was Yunie right? Were we really all changing?

I shifted uncomfortably, and resumed my seat next to my cousin with more confidence than before.

Tidus was right about one thing.

It is easier to laugh when Gippal isn't around.

o-o-o-o

It was night time, and crickets were chirping outside of the hut. There are no window panes in Besaid (unlike Home, where we negated to use locks but always installed glass windows, otherwise the sand would be the death of us all) and there are no doors, either. I was at the mercy of the cacophony going on outside my bedroom, and found I had a hard time sleeping in light of it.

Then again, maybe that was compliments of Gippal more than the crickets.

And, gods, I was thinking about him again, wasn't I?

Not long ago, after everyone had left and I went to find solace in the shower while Tidus and Yunie cleaned up (I offered to help, of course, but the look in Yunie's eyes was telling me they definitely needed some 'alone time', and not for sexual reasons, either) so I walked off to the bathroom, eager to avoid being a pawn in yet another argument.

Even though I turned the water on and closed the door (which really wasn't a door, but more like a dense flap of cloth made to keep cold air and curious eyes out) I was able to hear Yuna berating her husband for treating their 'honored guest' like so.

"Gods Yuna, he called your cousin a tramp! And you were just going to sit back and take that?"

"…N-no! But Rikku has been dealing with Gippal for years and I don't think we should be making things more awkward for them by—"

"Them? Yuna, there is no _them_. There is her. And there is him."

_There is no them._

"But maybe he can…can change, ya know?"

"No Yuna, I don't. Not everyone repents, not everyone is filled with as much remorse and guilt as you!"

Silence.

"I didn't mean it like that."

More silence.

"…I know."

I wanted to turn the shower off in honor of this dramatic moment, but figured that would only be slightly suspicious because nobody is capable of taking showers is under thirty seconds.

"I just want Rikku to have a happy ending, is all."

"Well it won't be with _him_, I can tell you that much." Tidus sighed. "And you need to stop playing match maker. You're a summoner—a damn good one at that—but you're not a marriage counselor."

There was a long exhalation of breath.

"What good am I if I can save the world but can't help my friends?"

And I imagine Tidus got that sickenly sweet look in his eye, the one he had fallen culprit to so many times on our first pilgrimage, and I heard the rustle of fabric and knew that the two were probably partaking in a long, emotional embrace of some sort and I probably should have stopped eavesdropping but I didn't.

"I was waiting to see how she reacted," Yuna confided. "If she took offense, then of course I would have—"

"I know."

There was some more fabric rustling, and I was pretty sure all the warm water had already run out of the shower and I wasn't even undressed yet.

"It's just not like Rikku to…accept stuff like that. I mean, when did she start letting people walk all over her?"

"Not people," Yuna corrected. "Person."

"Yeah, well, same difference."

Typical Tidus logic.

"Maybe they both just need to grow up a little?"

My eye twitched. If Brother had been present, he would have inquired as to the where abouts of my contact lens.

"Nice try, Yuna," Tidus chuckled. "I don't think that one eyed guy _is_ capable of growing up."

"Actually, I was referring to—"

And I heard footsteps. And I panicked. And I threw myself into the shower. With my clothes on. Because I am a genius.

Turns out, all it was was Tidus walking by to get some paper towels or napkins or what have you from the closet in the shallow hall, and he would have to be blind stumbling drunk to come into the bathroom with the water running anyway. But I didn't possess that much foresight at the time and opted instead to freak out in fear of being caught listening when I shouldn't have been.

So now I was in a freezing cold shower. With my clothes on.

Gods, could this day get _any_ worse?

o-o-o-o

Yes, Rikku, it can.

It can always get worse.

And it usually does right after you say it can't, too.

I had wrapped a towel around me in the aftermath and went on the hunt for Yuna's long forgotten dress spheres. There were more on the Fuzzy Navel but I had to _get_ there first, and going nude wasn't exactly an option.

Well, I mean, it was an option, but not an option I planned on pursuing.

I found her white mage sphere in the closet of odds and ends (for as wonderful and amazing as Yuna is, she is not exactly the neatest person by any means. All cleaning duties fell upon Buddy and Paine while we ventured around on the Celsius. Yunie and I just tended to make a mess. Shinra helped.)

And I'm sure Tidus is none the positive influence, either.

He practically owned a patent on the term 'dry shower' and wasn't shy of utilizing said patent every day during our journeys. I mean, we all did it, but Tidus was the only one to constantly remark on it. 'Gee guys, it's been, like, five days since I've taken an actual shower. I never thought I'd be able to say that. Thanks for the deodorant, Auron. It really helped.' He would usually respond in a gruff monotone, 'No it didn't.'

At any rate, I brought the sphere back to the bathroom and slipped into one of Yuna's white mage robes (I figured they'd be the most comfortable to sleep in, if by chance I somehow regained access to my logic and negated to go check up on Gippal in the middle of the night) and pattered into the guest room, careful not to draw any attention to myself, for Yuna and Tidus were now doing the obligatory make up kiss that always follows the argument. Well, their arguments, anyway.

Personally, I'd vote for hot kinky make up _sex_. But that's just me.

And so there I was, sprawled out on the guest bed, donning Yuna's white mage garb, and listening to those damn crickets that didn't stop chirping long enough to breathe.

I was able to take this for about three more minutes before I bolted out of bed, made for the window, tore open the flap, and hurtled myself out the side of the hut. Sleeping wasn't an option, and I was worrying about Gippal's welfare, only because I feared the alcohol consumption he no doubt ingested would threaten his mental stability, if not urge him to up and leave me here at the mercy of Tidus and Yuna, the two star struck lovers of doom.

So I was going to the Fuzzy Navel for my own sake. Not his. No. Never his.

The robes dragged on the wet sand that trailed from the hut to the ship. I felt bad about soiling them, but I promised myself I'd wash the coat before returning it. It was highly unlikely Yuna would notice them missing anyway. What with preggo-brain and all. She probably can't even remember where she keeps the salad dressing.

It was no surprise my subconscious told me to carry my daggers on my person. Yes, a white mage with a weapon. That's someone you definitely don't want to piss off. (And who was I looking for? The one person who pisses me off. My logic astounds me sometimes. Astounds.)

Eventually I made it to where the Fuzzy Navel was docked, and was surprised Gippal was either too moronic or too far gone to have closed the exit ramp. He was definitely drunk. Must be. You don't leave exit ramps open during the middle of the night.

I don't know what I expected, maybe for Gippal to be pacing the confines of the ship, wildly proclaiming his lunacy for all to hear, or for him to be making love to himself, since there's a lack of woo-able Al Bhed on a small island village like Besaid. Perhaps indulging in his Ronso Porn. Who knows what that man does in his free time?

I walked up the gently sloping ramp and entered the Fuzzy Navel, in all of its sexy metallic glory. It smelled vaguely of alcohol and cologne, patent Gippal scents, so no surprise there, but here's the thing: he was sitting in the pilot's seat, perfectly placid, face unmoving, Al Bez can hanging limply in his hand, as he stared aimlessly out the windshield, gnawing his lower lip deep in thought.

And here I was expecting some action.

I then tripped on the white mage robes and fell flat on my face. I have the dexterity of an obese guado, which is to say: none at all.

"Cid's Girl?"

I offered up a muffled response.

"…In clothes?" he finished. "Well, now, there's a surprise."

"Muck Foo," I answered, then climbed to my knees.

Gippal made an effort to move, quite a feat for a lazy bastard such as himself, and squat down next to me.

"Ya know," he began, voice mitigated and hardly there, "I didn't mean it."

"What, about my clothes?" I questioned stupidly.

"No, no. I meant every word of _that_." A sigh. "Look, never mind. Are you, like, alright and stuff?"

And that threw me for a loop, for when was the last time Gippal ever asked about my well being?

"Um. And just what does the 'and stuff' entail?"

Gippal's right eye regarded me skeptically.

"Your just full of spunk tonight, aren't you kid?"

I returned his one eyed stare, only I used _both_ of my eyes.

"Only when provoked."

Gippal stood up, and for a small, small, fleeting moment, I almost thought he was going to offer his arm in aid. Of course, I blame this faulty assumption to some sort of head trauma I sustained during the fall and found my heart oddly sinking when Gippal, in turn, simply made his way back over to the pilot's seat.

"What are you doing here anyway?"

He asked the former without eye contact or even the common courtesy of aiming the inquiry in my direction.

"I dunno. The crickets were loud."

Again: I hit my head on the way down. Really.

"And ignoring the fact that you are undeniably insane, are you trying to tell me the crickets made you come looking for me?"

"…No, Gippal. It was the voices in my head."

"I was unaware you were schizophrenic."

"I'm not," I assured him. "Auron was channeling me through the sixth sense. He says to tell you only men without balls carry around diet tonic water in their mini bars."

"…And after he was done engaging in the petty activity of insulting your pilot's beverages, he told you to come looking for me in the middle of the night?"

"…Something like that."

"I see."

"No you don't, you don't even have both eyes, you don't see much of anything!"

"Lame," Gippal dictated, resuming his previous seat.

I racked my mind for a comeback but I was deplete of repertoire.

"Are you spending the night here?" I asked, extracting the Al Bez from his left hand.

"You interested, Rikku?"

A raised eyebrow accompanied his last remark, and I found myself quite envious of this apparently very common eyebrow raising skill that everyone seems to have mastered but me.

And when was the last time he referred to me by my real name?

"Sorry, Gippal, but I'm not as Trampie as you think I am."

And at this, Gippal looked genuinely contrite, and it kinda scared me. The face didn't look right on him, like he had plastic surgery to make it contort like that or something.

"There's a bed in the back," he cryptically offered.

I stared.

"Give me one good reason why I should care."

"You can't hear the crickets through ten inches of sheet metal."

When I remained unconvinced, Gippal gave a slight shrug of his shoulders, leaned back, and closed his eyes, feet characteristically propped up on the dashboard.

"Well, suit yourself. But I'm pretty comfortable right here. Think I'm going to go to sleep now."

And then he was oddly silent.

Unsure of how to react, or if I should possibly say goodnight, I absent mindedly took a sip from Gippal's Al Bez can and then left it in the cup holder next to his seat.

"Alright," I agreed, not knowing if Gippal even heard me.

And maybe this was his way of apologizing.

I wandered into the designated room with its silk sheets and canopy bed (and very lonely looking mini bar) and couldn't fight the urge to kneel next to the furniture and try to open the doors one last time.

But it was still locked.

Bastard.

o-o-o-o

Towards the middle of the night, or during some ungodly hour in the morning, I crept back out to the cockpit and leered over a gently snoring Gippal, feet still in the air, can still in the cup holder. Without really taking the time to second guess myself, I silently mouthed the words to a low grade cure spell and watched in satisfaction as the green haze enveloped my comrade in its healing aura of star dust and moon shine. I then tip toed back to the bedroom, telling myself at least that would take the edge off of his impending hangover tomorrow morning.

o-o-o-o

Morning didn't come to me in dappling forms of sun light and the chirping of far off birds singing some private melody. I wasn't stirred awake by a gentle sea breeze or the far off smell of Yunie's cooking. I didn't even receive the courtesy of some scandalous sounding alarm clock or the juvenile prank of ice cold water.

No, my wake up call was a string of Gippal vilifications originating from the cockpit as he ranted and raved and cursed everything to kingdom come.

Rubbing out my eye boogers, I stumbled to my feet, surprised to find myself still dressed in my mage clothes—well, Yuna's mage clothes, as it were—and made my way into Gippal's presence.

"Is everything alright?" I yawned, stretching my arms out to maximum wingspan.

"Someone stole the damn power converter!" Gippal exploded. "It's gone! Those things are expensive, dammit, and they don't just grow legs and walk off!"

"What about the spare power converter?"

I asked this with a lull in my voice, my mind still hazy mind not yet grasping the gravity of our current situation.

"That's gone too!"

He started pacing frantically. "It's not like I misplaced them. Hell, that would be like misplacing a...a tire on a land rover or something. And nobody could do that except Brother!"

"He only did it once," I argued weakly, sleep still clouding my peripheral vision.

It was strange watching how protective Gippal became over his machina. I momentarily wondered if I'd ever find a guy to get that protective over me.

Except for, like, Tidus, because he's married and stupid and stuff.

"Argh…dammit!"

Gippal was now clutching his head. It's nice to see how well my cure spell worked.

I should stick to stealing. This is proof.

"Can't we just borrow one from Yunie or something?"

"Have you seen a single ship on this gods forsaken island except the one we're standing in?"

I paused. "So you think this place is pretty boring too, then?"

Gippal stopped. "Rikku, what? I'm rampaging here, stop trying to start conversation."

"I'm just saying, I think we may have that in common."

Another yawn.

"I'm not a morning person," I added, as an after thought.

Gippal stopped bemoaning his fate long enough to almost smile, and it made my heart do something funny, like fill up with carbonation or soda or something. Bubbles. There were bubbles in my chest.

"Um. Ahem. _Anyway_," he started pointedly. "You are aware that this thing won't fly without a power converter."

"Nu-uh, just get outside and push."

"That's not funny, Rikku. That's not funny and I'm not laughing."

"But you want to," I commented, breezing by him and heading for the Comm. Sphere he had been neglecting ever since his first girlfriend.

"Celsius, remember?"

"Have you gotten in _contact_ with the Celsius in the past week?"

"…No," I answered, the reality slowly sinking in like a bowling ball in my stomach. "Um. So what do we do? Call Pops?"

"Your Pops hates me more than he hates you. That's not gonna help."

I paused, that last line ridiculous yet true all at the same time true.

"Hitch hiking?" I suggested.

"The precocious attitude is loosing its charm now, Rikku."

"Who says I was being precocious? I was being _resourceful_. And my resources say we should go back and check with Yunie and Tidus before we burst an artery over this."

Gippal glared something lethal at the mentioning of Tidus' name, but refrained from vocalizing any discontent. He just supplied me with a quick, vertical jerk of his head, to which I took as a nod, and followed me, begrudgingly, back to the Besaid Village where Yunie and Tidus were to be interrogated as to the misplaced power converters.

o-o-o-o

Well, Yunie and Tidus were about as helpful as any two newly weds could be, which means not at all.

Yuna feigned innocence, all the while giggling every time Tidus snuck his hand under the table to pinch her leg or some such nonsense. I hardly saw why such groping was necessary, let alone desired. If Gippal were to jab at the flesh located on _my_ left thigh, I'd promptly remove his hand. From his body.

Right when I had pretty much given up on getting anything worth while out of the couple (and they seemed so sane when they were single) Gippal threw out a half hearted, "Well then I guess we'll have to walk."

This snapped Tidus out of his romantic stupor long enough to gargle his spit in the back of his throat and consequently choke on his tongue.

"You? Walk? Alone?"

His string of incoherent sentence fragments was amusing to say the least.

"I saved the world twice," I reminded him tartly. "I'm not too worried for my well being."

"But it's not the fiends I'm worried about," Tidus grumbled, making a very large point out of staring at Gippal when he said this.

"I know, those pesky Yevonites, they may take to street evangelism and try to convert us or something."

And, though I will never admit this out loud, Gippal does have a small penchant for at least being dimly amusing on various occasions.

Yunie bit the inside of her cheek so as not to smile. I did the same.

Tidus put his 'grr' face back on and started pacing the length of the hut. I sheepishly returned Yunie's dress sphere after changing back into my original clothes (or lack thereof) in the bathroom, all the while moving to the steady beat of Tidus' complaints originating from the other side of the room.

While my in-law muttered and groaned and frothed at the mouth, I snuck outside into Yunie's rather miserable attempt at a garden and tried to call Pops on the Comm Sphere I had snagged from the newly wed's possession.

Some dialing. Static. A couple swear words. Then, "Rikku? Where the hell you be, girl? I can't remake Home if you're out there—"

"Ribbons Ceremony, remember?"

A characteristic scratch of the head. "Sumthin' like that."

"Yeah, well, long story short, I found a ship—" and what I really mean to say is _stole_— "and it, um, kind of broke and stuff."

"So where are ya?"

"Besaid," my voice lifting as I momentarily anticipated a grandiose rescue by the long forgotten Fahrenheit. "You gonna pick me up?" I say me because I'm pretty sure Pops would make Gippal swim back to the desert before offering him a ride.

"…Nah," Pops muttered. "That's too far. If ya'll were closer, then maybe."

I hope the static infested comm screen did my angry face justice.

"So what am I supposed to do?" I asked, hands on hips. "We can't get back to the Remnants Of Home and Bevelle is, like, two years away."

"Wut's wrong with—wait a sec, Remnants Of Home? Who the hell came up with dat there idea? This ain't no remnant!"

"…Gippal," I answered with a sigh, and in retrospect, I am kind of upset I didn't come up with it on my own. It's pretty fitting if you think about it.

"Stupid one eyed git! You tell him he ain't welcomed anywhere else, and then we'll see where he goes runnin' off to!"

"…Pops, how am I supposed to get to Bevelle?"

I momentarily contemplated returning to The Remnants Of Home but quickly discarded the idea. If I went back, I may never get out. So first things first: get to Bevelle. My life can be put on hold until then.

"Well wut's wrong with the feet your mom and I gave ya?"

I said something not very nice in Al Bhed, shut off the sphere by throwing it into Yuna's patch of radishes, and then stalked back into the hut.

Gippal took one look at my face and was already smirking. I despise him. Despise.

"Looks like someone's Pops doesn't much care about them," Gippal leered, and I made an attempt to kick his crotch area but he expertly parried it with a conveniently placed chair, thus landing me on my back and staring up at a concerned looking Yuna.

"The Comm Sphere is in the radishes," I offered. Then stood up.

"Come on Gippal, if you want to make it to the Ribbons Ceremony we gotta go now."

"…We're walking?" he muttered, not particularly tickled with the notion.

"Any better ideas?"

I'm sure Tidus had about fifteen on hand, but Yuna clamped a hand over his mouth before he supplied us with them.

"Alright, alright," he sighed. "Just lemme stop by the Fuzzy Navel one last time."

"…Why?" I questioned, my disgust not clandestine. "So you can kiss it good bye?"

"No," he answered in all seriousness. "The vodka."

I saw three different shades of red before seeing white and don't quite remember what happened after that.

o-o-o-o

Author's Notes

o-o-o-o

You people are too kind. I am so thankful and flattered you've all taken the time to not only review, but leave such insightful comments on the chapters beforehand. I appreciate the time you people take to tell me what you think, and I am trying fervently to reply to each and every one, but I usually don't get around to it until the next chapter is ready to be uploaded XD.

(HawkofNavarre, I totally fell for your review, by the way. I thought you really were mad at my Gippal bashing, and I think I actually stopped breathing for a minute. XD)

The Gippal bashing will stop as soon as I flesh him out more as a character. But right now it's just too much fun.

Also; there are still underling elements as to why Rikku hates babies. Insanity is not one of these aforementioned elements.

Anyway, thank you for your time and your comments! (Bows.)

PS: The naming of Yuna's daughter Lenne was not my initial idea. I was at a loss of what to call her, and then stumbled upon Firefly Rebirth's fic 'What Time Cannot Erase,' in which Yuna already has a daughter named Lenne, and it just fit her character so perfectly (not to mention Rikku's impending reaction) so I couldn't resist. If Firefly wishes me to change the name, I will. But I am hell bent on naming her sibling Seymour. XD


	6. Chapter Five

Gippal has over looked the fact that you can't walk off an island.

Which is necessary if one wants to leave Besaid.

And with his precious airship gone, there's no way out of this forsaken place save for by boat, and this very premonition is enough to send Gippal into a corner to soil his pants accordingly.

Not to say I'd mind, of course. Gippal piddling in his pants is something I'd gladly sell half my vital body organs to witness, but water seems to send the man into some sort of catatonic like stupor where he's incapable of breathing let alone pissing, so I doubt the feat will be performed any time soon.

Though the look on his face right then was priceless.

The lure of all the gil in Spira could not compare to the milky sheen gracing my pilot's visage as he gaped in horror and stood on a rickety dock, swaying ever so precariously in the wind, surrounded by water on all three sides and me on the other.

He was clutching his lone flask of vodka like some kind of alcoholic life line and I was mindlessly fiddling with the previously radish strewn Comm Sphere wondering when to try dialing into the Celsius again, because it felt like I was becoming border line obsessive.

The boat we were assigned to travel to Kilika was monstrous in size and almost as big as the island itself. (When the ship is larger than its destination, that's when you know you have a problem.) Gippal had spent the better part of the day scowering around for a spare power converter but—come on—it's Besaid here, people. They're too busy building sand castles and knitting blankets and cooking pot luck suppers to even know what a power converter _is_, let alone happen to have a spare one up their ass.

I think he was just trying to avoid the ocean.

The scary, big, blue thing that it is.

Tidus was contemplating hiding under the dock just to jump out and yell 'boo!'

Yuna, sensing tension, offered to change into her thieve dress sphere and this seemed to dim Tidus' enthusiasm (well, at least for taunting the immaculate Gippal) and aroused an entirely different one, thus he became preoccupied for the better part of the morning.

This left me alone to pester whoever I could find and perhaps mediate or try Pilates.

Needless to say, mediating for me always lead to some rather terrifying results, and while some people are able to picture themselves in some tranquil, picturesque environment sipping a martini and turning golden under the sun, all I could ever think about was random, inexplicable things that made no sense to no one. Even me.

So today it happened to be Auron.

And that is usually where my mind travels when at a lack of better places to go, and it's not because I secretly revered him as some sort of father figure (already had one of those) or clandestinely harbored an unyielding romantic passion for a man who scarcely knew I was alive (already had one of those, too.) It's just that everything he said became more poignant after he died, ya know? Like all of the sudden he was full of wisdom and knowledge just because he got sent to the Farplane.

So. Well. I guess we can commence a flashback now.

"So why the fear of the Farplane?"

(Also commence the first words Auron ever said to me; or acknowledged my existence.)

"It's icky."

"That isn't a very well thought out explanation."

"You didn't say it had to be thought out."

Shift. Groan. Insert some unscripted grumbling here.

"You're avoiding the question."

I squinted at this, because usually, when I attempt to be vaguely cryptic about something, the men of my family know to leave well enough alone. Either that or they're too dense to pick up on it—or simply do not care, as is the case with certain bleach head pilots.

At any rate, I was not used to being analyzed like this.

"…Well…well…_so_?"

"So when most people pose a question, they expect to receive an answer."

"Well what if I don't wanna give you one? Huh? You ever think about that?"

Needless to say, I was not a fan of Auron when I first met him. He was assisting in my cousin's suicide. I mean, so was I, but he was big time assisting. I at least had to be persuaded.

"Why the fear of the Farplane?" he repeated.

It was then that I chose to note that Guadosalam was typically eerie and vacant. There were never enough people—or Guado—milling about. They all stayed locked up in their tree-trunk-meets-granite homes playing Solitaire or something. This left me at the mercy of Auron who was at the mercy of the Farplane. And neither of us was exactly happy about it.

"Neeeeeh, let it go already, will ya?"

Auron chewed this over for a moment, and then finally came back with, "Alright, then would you like to propose a subject?"

I huffed at the absurdity. Why was he being so persistent? Why was a fifty thousand year old man resorting to _bugging_ me?

"I…I dunno! I don't like dead people, alright?"

And at this he twitched, but I don't think I realized it then.

"And why is that?"

"Because once they're dead…they're dead! You can't bring them back! So what's the point in gawking at their pyreflies? It's just a bunch of bugs and magic and…and crap. That's what it is. Crap."

"…Most people prefer to call them memories."

"Well then memories are crap. Because they're just memories."

I thought the conversation would flat line there. It didn't.

"But would you rather have none at all?"

And that will forever be what I hate about Auron: the relentless way he pursued you until you were made to face all those things you would rather leave under your bed or in your closet or in a drawer with your bad yearbook photos.

"Why do you even _care_?" I finally asked, crossing my arms over my concave chest. I'd like to say it's developed since then but it hasn't.

"All men should pay this much heed to a woman."

I full out gawffed at that one, because, hello, Auron here. He uses words like they're rations during a cold war.

"Why? _You_ certainly don't."

Auron began scrubbing his temple this way and that, trying to resist the urge to strangle me, I'm sure. The stupid blond bimbo with and unnatural fear of lightening and a penchant for sticky fingers and a tendency to gargle her hi-potions and—

"Yes I do," he began finally, voice like rocks and face like plaster. "You just don't listen."

"Listen?!" I shrieked, my voice echoing off the rocky sides of Guadosalam like an air raid siren warning the inhabitants of an oncoming frontal assault. "Auron, you never _say_ anything!"

At this, the man heaved a sigh, so heavy it could probably crush me with the sheer power of its dead weight.

"Rikku. Who said it had to be audible?"

o-o-o-o

So we're back at the dock again.

Gippal was shivering like a lost puppy, trepidation marking his every step as he inched closer and closer to the boat that was to take us to Kilika.

"If you go any slower you'll be going backwards," Tidus chided from the shore, the merry couple of love and prosperity there to wave us off as we ventured to lands we knew only too well.

"I think that's his intent," Yuna muttered to her husband, elbowing him gently. "He doesn't seem too keen on leaving the desert in the first place." I noticed she was now wearing her gunner's dress sphere. Much more modest. Well. In comparison.

I was stuck behind the immovable Gippal, swaying from side to side in impatience. I swear, there are glaciers in Gagazet that move faster than him.

"He is aware the water is only three feet deep, right?" Tidus whispered to his wife, who was about three seconds away from grabbing some pom poms out of hammer space and cheering our tragic hero on.

And hearing this sparked ideas anew.

"Gippal, if you're not on the boat by the time I count to five, I'm pulling out Machina Maw."

I think I saw Gippal's back tense. But only slightly.

"Rikku! Don't abuse your dress spheres!"

I looked dimly at my cousin.

I wanted to ask if using the white mage robe to cure hangovers counted in that arena.

"One…"

Gippal inched forward slightly and then stopped.

"Two…"

No progress this time.

"Three…"

I think he was starting to turn around.

And. Well. That's never good. So I went into self preservation mode and did the only thing left to do: shove him over the edge.

Yuna screamed and Gippal gargled some very appeasing looking salt water while Tidus and I clawed at our sides.

I could tell my comrade was really freaked out by the fall because he wasn't seizing the opportunity to flail around wildly and beg Yuna for CPR. He sort of just sat there in a daze, the water only reaching his shoulders.

Giddiness taking a stronghold on me, I chipperly skipped the rest of the way down the dock and told Gippal to hurry it up before we missed the Ribbons Ceremony all together.

He emerged out of his stupor long enough to glare.

o-o-o-o

And I never took into account motion sickness.

Maybe because airships aren't prone to the same amount of turbulence, or maybe because Buddy flies like a dream. Either way, I was hacking up my pot luck now.

"Tomato juice, Cid's Girl?"

I dragged my head out of the toilet long enough to see a can of unopened tomato juice Gippal must have procured from some vagabond merchant intent on making my life a living hell.

"That's not even funny."

"Maybe I should try to steal the ship."

"Yeah, except I'm not piloting the ship, dummy, I'm riding it."

I knew before it even left my lips Gippal would have some witty comment in reserve for the word 'ride.'

And as it goes, once he's buoyant, Gippal seems to regenerate his annoying habits, one by one, until he is at full operating capacity, one hundred percent dumb ass.

"So whaddya got in there, anything good?"

Gippal indicated the porcelain with the jab of a finger.

"Nothing I can identify," I answered honestly. "Wanna take a look?"

"Think I'll pass. But maybe I'll take a rain check."

And. Hell. I was sea sick. I was prone to laugh at anything. Even that. As lame as it may be.

"I thought you sailed on ships all the time," Gippal noted, taking a seat next to me on the hard wood floor. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why, except that perhaps he wanted to revel in my misery as a sort of twisted pay back for shoving him in the kiddy pool. Which he totally deserved, by the way.

"Yeah, but our Al Bhed ships are built, like, way totally better that this!"

Gippal chuckled.

"The gentle rocking doesn't put you to sleep, now does it kid?"

I veered and returned to my toilet bowl.

"Why are you so happy all of the sudden?" I questioned, voice echoing off the sides of my prison.

"Vodka," Gippal answered simply.

"Can I—"

"All gone."

Pause.

"I hate you. With an uppercase H. I just wanted to let you know that before I die."

"Plan on suffocating on a wad of your own vomit?"

"Drowning in this piss water, maybe."

"That's a hell of a way to go."

And as I dragged my head out of the toilet again, I realized, with a shot of adrenaline, that Gippal was seeing me as a spewing, puking mess, and this didn't seem to phase him.

My hair was limp. My lips were chapped. My eyes were glazed. My snot was evident. Why didn't this turn him off? Why was he acting as though I was still…normal?

You can only pull that off if you're really turned on by somebody or really turned off.

'Or really in love.'

Auron, shut up. I gave you your spotlight already. Wait until next chapter.

"So you think the poisoned tomato juice was a plot to kill your father?"

I watched Gippal regard his beverage skeptically for a while.

"If it was poison then you'd be dead."

The man paused for a moment, lost in his own reverie.

"Dammit. Didn't think of that."

I smirked into my vomit.

"I think it's fairly evident I'm the brains of this operation, now isn't it?"

I said it without thinking and preferred not to hear Gippal's witty retort, so I returned to the shelter of the toilet.

After five minutes of silence, and therefore a retort-less Gippal, I slowly raised my head so that I was eye level with the rim of the bowl.

"So how come you're not laughing at me?" I asked softly, almost timidly, fearing the answer so much I wondered why I posed the inquiry in the first place.

"Who says I'm not?" he replied, avoiding eye contact, and taking great interest in the tomato juice.

"…Me."

He rolled his eyes at this.

"Yeah, that much I gathered, sweetheart."

"Well it could have been the voices in your head," I argued weakly.

"Like the crickets from last night?"

"No, no, no, last night was Auron, I told you that already."

"The Dead Guy?"

"Yes, Gippal. The Dead Guy. You're lucky we're not all so fond of referring to people by their short comings or you would forever be known as Cyclops."

"…And I'm sure there's plenty of people with a vast array of nick names stocked up for you, too, kid."

"Wait, hold up," I panicked. "I feel Pot Luck emerging."

Gippal patiently waited for me to finish hurling out my guts before carrying on.

"I'm laughing on the inside," he informed me.

At this, I was genuinely confused. So much so I almost reached up and scratched my head for emphasis, but I refrained seeing as though only gods know what those Besaid people put in their conditioner, and I didn't want any dandruff making its way to my bare shoulders. In case you haven't already figured this out, us Al Bhed have some very intense shampoo where we come from. That's probably why Gippal's hair can defy gravity in triple degree heat and mine looks hydrated even in the desert.

('This is _so_ not good for my roots,' Yunie had complained upon returning to the desert sometime ago on one of our nondescript ventures. Paine offered to chop some of her precious hair off with her mega emo sword of doom—gods, I think it even had a skull emblazoned on it—and that shut my cousin up quite nicely. 'You think that's bad,' I had muttered. 'You should have seen her do before the make over.')

"Laughing on the inside? Laughing at wha—oh, you mean from before!"

I was so proud of my newly drawn parallel I wanted to applaud myself. Or something.

"Why do you always do that?" I finally questioned. "Hop around a conversation like the words are hot coals and you're doing the moon walk in bare feet?"

"Um, I've never heard it worded like that—"

He was paused with the aid of a finger shot directly at his lips as I garbled up whatever was left of Yuna's supper into the toilet.

"Flushing would be a good idea right about now."

"Stop avoiding my question. Why are you so conversationally schizophrenic?"

"Conversationally—Rikku, _what_? You're not even making any sense."

"I dehydrate easily. And we're surrounded by sea water."

This was of no intelligence to Gippal, as was clearly evident by facial expression, or lack thereof.

"Get it? You can't _drink_ sea—"

"Yeah, I get it. And you can't be conversationally schizophrenic either."

"There! Right there! You did it again! You cut me off and ran on with another topic!"

"That you chose!"

I paused. He had got me there.

"Well…well… so what? I was right, wasn't I?"

"Says who?"

"Me and my pot luck."

"…It's talking to you now, huh?"

"Well, it does right before it comes out," I admitted truthfully. Someday I will learn that not all men want blatant honesty when they ask a question. Unlike Tidus, who practically petitioned you on whether or not you did number one or number two behind the bushes in the Calm Lands. But that was two years ago. I like to pretend he's matured.

"Is that really tomato juice?" I finally asked, voice horse with effort.

"Why? You interested?"

"Hell, no. Bored, is more like it."

"Then no, it's not really tomato juice. Just some carbonated soda pop that was conveniently cherry in flavor. Gotta love that artificial red dye, now don't ya kid?"

My strategically placed 'muck foo' was once again distorted due to inconveniently placed physical surroundings. One of these days I'll spit the profanity out articulately.

"By the way, you never answered my question, Mr. Smart Ass. Why aren't you laughing?"

"By the way, Miss Anal Retentive, you never really wanted an answer."

I choked on air. Air, I tell you. Friggin air.

"How…how could you _possibly_ know—"

"Facial expression," he offered simply, tossing the soda pop from out monstrous hand to the other. They must be good for tinkering with things. Or tuning into his girlfriend's chest radio. (Though, I had to admit, he did have exquisitely long, delicate fingers that even got me a little hot under the collar—except that I don't ware a collar, and therefore you are obliged to forget everything I just said.)

"Gippal, my face was in the _toilet_."

"Who says I needed to see it to know it was there?"

I huffed.

"Not everything is obvious, kid. Learn to not take people at face value."

And there he goes and ruins it. See? _See_? We're having a decent bonding moment—nothing like the kind I used to have on the Celsius but whatever, it's Gippal—and then he goes and says something so _utterly moronic_ it's a wonder he has more teeth than brain cells to begin with.

"Don't patronize me!" I whined, self sabotaging my own point before it ever left my mouth. "I'm not shallow, Gippal! I'm not…I'm not like you!"

"…You're distorting again," he dead panned, messaging his temples, in total Auron like fashion.

"I am not! And why would—hey! What do you mean _again_?"

Gippal scratched behind his neck, the only sign of awkward confrontation he ever permitted himself to show.

"I think we're done here."

"Nu-uh! We were just fine…until you came along and ruined it all!"

He opted the high road and chose not to comment. I didn't realize how gracious that was of him until later that night when I was rocking myself into epileptic fits of psychotic sea sickness in my bunker when it finally dawned on me just how totally brainless I had previously sounded.

(I choose to blame the subconscious influence of Tidus. You should too.)

o-o-o-o

And it's not like I'm totally one dimensional, ya know?

Just, maybe, more honest than most. And I expect people to be honest in return. Not anything wrong with that. Not anything at all. (And there's nothing wrong with saying there's nothing wrong with your logic, either.)

And, Gippal? Please. He couldn't be more faux if he traipsed a catwalk. (Though, funny, for someone I claim has build such magnificently ornate facades, I am quick to say he is but one dimensional.)

And maybe if he'd just shut up for once, not…not spill everything out there wide in the open. But maybe it's not quite that either, because he actually does have this weird, reserved side about him I haven't quite figured out. It's more like he feels the need to fill in every awkward silence with something so empty it would have been more profound with an inserted ellipses. Because then at least we could pretend he was brooding. Or, gods forbid, even thinking. But brooding is sexier. (Sorry, Shinra.)

And, come to think of it, he couldn't even pull that off right. He wouldn't brood, he'd sulk. He'd turn it all around and vacuum all the potential sexiness out of it. Auron could brood. He could brood like nobody's business. But…Wakka? Just some award winning sulking going on there, folks. And maybe Gippal falls somewhere in the middle, because at least he has the foresight to surround himself with machina whilst angsty and therefore made himself somewhat useful on various occasions (like, say, with the making of that kick ass gun he used to carry around ever since Sin wiped out Home for the first time. That was some serious angst put to good use. All Wakka ever did was chase a ball around. Loser.)

(Though Tidus wasn't much better.)

Then again, Tidus just got loud. And cried a lot more than your average male normally should. The worse the situation grew, the louder Tidus got, and that's how you knew you were really in trouble. At least until it surpassed the sound barrier and Tidus actually went mute. That's when you were royally screwed. So screwed even Auron may feel compelled to say something. Something like: 'Pray. Now.' Or 'Make haste!'

All I even did was call fiends 'poopie face' or 'big meanies.'

Yuna prayed to dead gods that didn't exist and Lulu spit out profanities in long forgotten eastern languages, except that Auron still remembered them but wouldn't let on lest we figure out how old he really was. Half way through our venture, when the undead shit hit the fan, he actually started to respond to her verbal cyanide and the two held wonderfully clandestine conversations over our heads in the battle field. Many a comment was directed at Tidus, but I think I got a couple of my own words, too. I'd shoot things back in Al Bhed but that was no biggie, cuz everyone knows Al Bhed, except for Wakka, because he's a stubborn prat who refuses. (And also Tidus, at the time, because of, ya know, Sin's Toxin and all. Or should I say preggo brain? Futuristic preggo brain. There we go.)

And I don't quite know what Gippal does under stress. I never fought beside him.

He, I dunno, flirts? Sleeps around? Resorts to butt sex given his lack of female companions on the battle field? (Note to self: never ask Paine.)

But seriously—what did he do? Was he all macho or all sullen or all stupid or all what?

Gods, now I want to go kill something with him just to gauge a reaction.

I need therapy. Like, seriously.

o-o-o-o

I was still main streaming pot luck the next morning.

"Gods, Rikku, you didn't eat that much pot luck to begin with."

"How do you know, huh? You weren't there. I seem to recall you getting kicked out—oh, gods, gonna blow—"

"That way," Gippal directed, shoving me towards the side of the boat. Kilika was on the horizon. Which was swaying. And therefore inducing more pot luck spewing glee.

"Hey, I've got an idea. Aim at oncoming fishing vessels and let's see if we can hit them starboard."

"…You disgust me, Gippal."

"You're the one drooling spit up, darling."

"At least The Pest didn't face paint me with it."

Gippal paused, racking his recent memory as to who The Pest was.

"Ya know, for a guy who assigns lame ass nick names to everything…"

"Not babies!" he chided, suddenly all pious and righteous and up in my face.

"The ones you can't pork, at least."

"…Those are babes," he corrected after a respective silence, in which he probably had some intense mental imagery going on in his frontal lobe. I'm glad his skull was in the way.

"And what do they call you, pray tell?"

I started to regret asking the minute Gippal started to flirt with smirking.

"The Love Machina 3000."

"Gods Gippal!" I squealed. "You serialize your libido!?"

"Not me. Them."

A pair of totally trashy teenage skank whores walked by us in a wave of perfume and hair spray, eyeing Gippal's body for every ab that it was worth. They then seductively licked their lips and him and started to unbutton their blouses.

Really? No. They were just two normal girls who happened to be unfortunate enough to be within ear shot of Gippal. But they had bigger chests than me, so that automatically makes them slutty.

"Jealous much?" Gippal queried, after noticing my line of envious vision.

"Am not!"

"Well it's either that or you're gay."

"Comparison, Gippal. Like you haven't done it."

"I don't gawk at things that are capable of possessing their own orbit. Anything bigger than a handful is a waste."

I fought my bile twice over. Sometimes I think he intentionally tries to turn me off.

"Too much information, Love Machina 3000."

"Again I feel the need to point out: not my words. Yours."

"Quoting."

"Not me."

"Hypothetically."

"If you say so, Cid's Girl." Pause. "Have I mentioned how good that Vodka tasted last night?"

See? He would have been better off with an ellipses.

"It wouldn't have stayed down."

Another smirk. "You'd be surprised at what you can swallow."

At this, I grew so disgusted I just threw him overboard.

o-o-o-o

No, he wasn't happy about it, and yes, I was probably going to pay, but not right now. Why? Because Kilika is made up primarily of docks. With the exception of the jungle which is where Gippal swears he got some of his Crimson Sphere training. (Total turd to that, by the way. Which has a nice ring to it, now that I think about it.)

I finally, after nineteen, long, laborious years, had the upper hand in this quasi abusive relationship. I was finally empowered with the gift of dominance and I could finally steer this boat into whatever port I wanted to. Why? Because Gippal, in all his unnatural fear of water, had temporarily forgotten just how mad he was at me a scant five minutes ago and was now clutching the edge of my scarf while whimpering like a kicked puppy left out in the rain for far too long.

Okay, so maybe he wasn't whimpering, but he _was_ clutching my scarf. My scarf! Of all things! (Though I suppose it's better than, say, my hand.)

Is it wrong to be nineteen and never have held a guy's hand?

No. No, I don't think so.

(At least I don't until I start thinking about how my cousin is _married_ and _pregnant_, but, gods, what is family for?)

Anyhow. That whole tirade aside.

The thing I have over looked about Kilika: sluts.

Tramps. Vapid whores. Skanks. Hoes.

All of the above.

Okay, I'm gonna point something out here, folks. I wear pants. Yes, yes I do. A top? Well, that's debatable. But pants? I cover my hind quarters up, thank you very much. And that's _with_ my dehydration condition.

But these Kilika prostertots?

Well. There's nary a scrap of fabric up north _or_ down south.

And I suppose, logically speaking, it makes sense. They are surrounded by water, after all. But but but – is it really necessary to go grocery shopping in a frickin' bikini?

I'm sure the tomatoes appreciate it very much.

(And the bananas – ha ha ha; double entendre, for the win.)

(I've been hanging around Gippal too long.)

Speaking of which, Gippal seemed to forget all about his innate fear of H20 the minute the first beach bunny ever so impeccably decided to…hop…in front of him.

"Gippal, what are you doing?" I queried, watching him dish out elevator eyes to every female passerby.

"Window shopping," he answered simply, then resumed this very daunting task.

I chose not to grace him with the courtesy of a response. He probably couldn't comprehend my very scintillating repertoire anyway.

"What? No smart ass comment, Trampie?"

"Yeah. You're…you're a giant poopie head!"

Scintillating, I tell you. Scintillating.

"I smell jealousy."

"And I smell BO, when's the last time you showered?"

That had to be the most blatant lie in all of history – the man wore enough cologne and deodorant to suffocate anyone with even a remote respiratory disorder.

"Alone?" he asked, as if I really wanted to know.

I went to push him over the side of the dock once again, only I had forgotten he had chosen to latch onto my scarf sometime ago.

So this time, I tumbled down with him.

o-o-o-o

I'm not a jealous person. Not really.

I mean – well, okay – sort of.

Alright, alright. So I get a little envious from time to time, who doesn't?

Let's not forget who made Shadow Prancing a practical career in light of following around the super star summoner of Spira. (Who could _sing_, on top of it all. Was it not enough that she was able to save the world from complete and utter destruction? Did she really have to go out and get a record deal too?)

And the dance moves. Let's not forget the dance moves.

Ya know, Paine and I were supposed to be the original back up dancers. No – really. Betchya didn't know that, did ya? Yeah – we were going to get matching dress spheres and all that shiz, but for some reason, the deities that may or may not exist decided dancing would not be a skill I could add to my ever lacking itinerary. Paine's, either. But that was pretty much a given. She's much more apt to sulking around with a quixotic expression adorning her features, or simply beating the crap outta something. She's not one to hand jive and fox trot, ya know?

(Brother was always pretty good at hand jiving, now that I think about it. Tried to make it an intermediate school sport. But the team consisted of only me, Brother, and Buddy. Needless to say, we never got very far. I say we were ahead of our time. The rest of the class said we were out of our minds. Both are plausible, in my opinion.)

But back to what I was saying – I think it's normal to be jealous. I do. It's part of…of having a uterus. Of having estrogen. Of having frickin hormones, for gods' sake. Guys are competitive and girls are envious. It's as simple as that. (Unless you are Shinra, in which case we were never really sure what to make of him. I mean, he claimed he was a guy, but never really got into the whole 'I'm better than you' charade that seems to characterize most men to the grave. We always assumed he was of the male persuasion, but none of us had actually seen proof of the penis. Perhaps he was dressing in drag all this time. Who knows? Nothing ruffled his chocobo feathers. I don't think that's normal.)

(Besides, there must have been a reason he never took that mask off.)

Now I'm debating the gender validity of my team mates. See what lack of intelligent conversation does to a girl?

We retreat. We close up. We freak in.

Guys freak out.

Gippal was proving this fact right now.

"So. Um. Luca. Tomorrow?" he suggested, though not really, because the luster of said beach bunnies had worn off some time ago, say when he fell back into the water for the millionth time. He derived little satisfaction from dragging me down with him.

"Why are boobs so important?" I finally questioned, sitting down on the lush foliage that made up the better half of Kilika. The jungle was dense and humid, just like I remembered it. Little had changed in that regard, and I figured this much was good. I was still getting over the fact such a lattice work of boardwalks and shops had emerged from a town that was pretty much demolished the first time the world was nearly annihilated. You would think Shuyin would have made a pit stop here on his happy road to self destruction just to make a point – like, hey, you can rebuilt all you want, suckers, but this is still my domain – and then proceed to blow it all to the Farplane. Again. Because that's what bad guys do. They blow stuff.

…Ahem. Ignore that, please.

"Boobs?" Gippal reiterated, like he hadn't heard me. He did, for the record. I know he did. He just likes having an excuse to say the word 'boobs.'

"Yes, Gippal. Those lovely little things women sport on their chest."

"Little?"

I heaved a sigh that could have toppled over a couple trees, given the right direction and general weakness of the bark.

"Do you even bother to have conversations with your penile conquests?"

"Not unless they initiate it."

"I somehow doubt that. Even you aren't that shallow."

"Wanna bet?"

I debated this internally for a moment.

"No. I don't have the gil."

"Well, there ya go then."

I chewed on the corner of my lip. It wasn't glossed and it wasn't lush and it wasn't even anything remotely remarkable. It was simply there. So much for eye candy.

"This is me trying to initiate a conversation," I pointed out, in case this point was somehow floating over his spiky blond head.

"And this is me trying to ignore it."

The sun was setting, and it was beautiful and lovely and all that crap, but romantic sight seeing doesn't hold the same 'oomph' when you're laying idly next to a guy who's IQ is smaller than his shoe size.

Shadows were dancing across our bodies, provided in part by the vast array of trees engulfing our make shift campsite (for we were too cheap to stay at an inn – or at least, that's what Gippal claims. In reality, we all know he simply did not want to have naught but a measly piece of plywood and a mattress between him and the deadly, dangerous ocean.)

There was no bonfire, because there was no need for one.

It really was just the two of us sprawled out on our backs in the middle of the jungle, waiting for night to envelope us with its stars and characteristic chill.

I was trying to spark a verbal exchange.

Gippal was trying to doze off before the sun did.

"Why didn't you want to go to the Ribbons Ceremony?"

"Nergh," was his intelligent reply.

I waited a couple beats.

"And why are barely clothed skanks so appealing? Do you really think they'd make good mothers?"

And, of course, this is the line of questioning Gippal chose to comment on.

"Confidence is hot, Trampie." A pause. "And it is something you definitely don't have."

I snorted, resounding and irreverent.

"And how could I when I've got dick wads like you constantly putting me down?"

"Ya see, a smart girl would know how to handle that."

"Enlighten me. How would a smart girl handle it?"

"By kicking my ass," he offered simply.

I startled. "Pifft. I could _so_ kick your ass."

Gippal seemed to smirk a little at this last line.

"Alright then," he breathed, getting up and stretching in a lame attempt to circulate blood back to his lousy excuse for a brain. "Let's go."

"Wait, what?"

"You. Me. Let's go. Right now."

I was unaware if he was referring to a fist fight or intercourse.

"…You mean, like, battle?"

"Sure. Why not."

My brow furrowed together.

"What's in it for me?"

"Well, you mean besides the opportunity to give me a free ass kicking?" Gippal laughed. "You, um, need more incentive than that?"

"No, not really," I mused, taking this into serious contemplation. "But I _do_ want a conversation."

"…About what?"

"About whatever I decide I want a conversation on, that's what."

"And what will that be?"

I paused. "I dunno yet. I'll let you know when I figure it out."

Gippal looked me over with his good eye, though it wasn't in the same elevator manner he was providing all the other girls with earlier that day.

"This is bull. You just want an excuse to grope me."

"Now that's _my_ incentive," he admitted. "You're the one who chose philosophizing over a nice little roll in the hay."

"First of all, there's an obvious lack of hay anywhere on this island," I pointed out. "And second of all, I prefer my guys with balls that hang."

Gippal didn't have a witty comeback for that one.

"Yeah, you're not the only one who can demolish self esteem. So how does it feel to be talked about like a piece of meat?"

"Pretty nice, actually," he said. "Must mean I look tasty."

"Who says I'd eat you?" I grumbled. "Maybe I'd just char your ass over a campfire."

"Funny how you chose my ass over various other parts of my body."

"…Anything done to your face would be a definite improvement."

"Aw, Rikku," Gippal admonished. "You can do better than that."

I paused. I probably could.

"Alright, well, let's get this ass kicking over and done with."

I jumped to my feet, readying my daggers of merry mayhem and destruction.

Gippal started to load his phallic symbol of a gun he was using as a temporary pillow beforehand.

"Knives aren't gonna do much good as far as bullets are concerned."

He idly began to pop some ammunition into his chamber.

"Yeah, but you forgot about the time it takes to _reload_."

I then flew through the air and made an attempt for his jugular. He thwarted me off with the butt of his gun, sending me orbiting into a near by bush just full of lovely thorns and thistles. If I didn't know any better, I'd say his nonchalance was planned.

Except for the fact that he lost his grip on the handful of bullets he was trying ever so effortlessly to load.

I leaped back up and once again made for another attack, only this time I went for his knees, because I had no desire to have my cranium cracked again.

Let it be known: Gippal can kick.

Maybe he should have been Yuna's back up dancer.

Gods know he's got the hips for the job.

(And he's always jutting them this way and that, like it's of some extreme form of sexiness to be able to toss around your torso on any given whim. Personally, I found it rather feminine. And so did Paine, for the record.)

The light was fading, and I could opt to go with stealth, except you and I both know me and stealth are on worse terms than me and Wakka, so that made a surprise attack from behind out of the question.

But not necessarily a piggy back.

I latched myself onto Gippal's broad shoulders, debating where to drive the tip of my knife into his flesh. Nothing mortally wounding, of course, but perhaps enough to leave a scar or two. He could do with a couple marks that didn't originate from the bedroom.

"You rabid monkey fiend," he hissed, as I grabbed a fistful of hair and unwittingly locked myself around him. "Ha; you just wanted to wrap your legs around me, now didn't you sweetheart?"

I responded by slitting the back of his platoon pants.

I did him a favor. Purple was not the man's color.

"Aw gods, you little bitch!"

"…Out of curiosity, what is it that women find attractive about you, Gippal? 'Cuz it's not your chivalry, that's for certain."

I released the cyclops from my grip of doom, letting the gentle night breeze do my talking for me.

I stretched out on my back, propping my head up on my forearm as I watched Gippal dance around in circles, trying to gauge the severity of the incision.

"Great – now I'm gonna have to go _shopping_."

I love how he has perfected the art of saying shopping like some third world disease.

"And what could be worse than that, I wonder?"

He grumbled yet another excerpt in some language I did not know, and after much tossing and turning, opted to simply sit down on his now exposed hindquarters.

He then made a very unappealing face.

"Gah, dew!"

I giggled myself into a fit of hysterics, liable to split open my sides and spill visceral fluid onto the floor.

"I'd say I won. One conversation to go, please."

"Wasn't official. We didn't sign anything."

I dead panned.

"And is that the best you can come up with?"

Gippal swallowed at the repetition of his own line.

"I have that patented, ya know. You can't use it."

"I just did."

I followed up my little act of rebalance by simply turning around and going to sleep.

What? It's not like the man could sue.

o-o-o-o

My thoughts on Kilika?

Well.

It's a double edged sword. It's got enough water to make Gippal revert back to the age of five. At the same time, it's got enough harlots to make any girl with an ounce of estrogen feel inferior, even if they are prancing around in a neon yellow bra.

(Which is really all it is, when you get right down to it.)

But – hey – I wear pants!

Which is where I kept the Comm. Sphere. In my pants.

Wow, that sounded disconcerting. I meant in my pockets.

It's a good thing Gippal does not have access to my internal monologues.

Not that I don't resort to saying half of them out loud, anyway.

Dial. Dial. Buzz. Twerp. Bing. Boink. Dial. Dial.

Repeat.

"Does this piece of crap even work?" I asked rhetorically, for Gippal had disappeared sometime around the crack of dawn to look for a new set of suspenders to hide _his_ crack of dawn. Seriously. He'd be better off meandering around in his boxers. His fashion sense? Zero. And he makes fun of _my_ attire. (Or lack thereof.)

No. Apparently not. This thing does officially _not_ work.

But, just to make sure: dial dial buzz twerp bing boink dial dial.

"Pops?"

"Rikku? Where the hell are ya? That don't look like no desert."

"That's because I'm not in the desert, Pops. I'm in Kilika. On my way to the – "

"I thought I told ya to get your scrawny little white ass back here."

Since I had no ready excuse as to why I was traveling half way around the world with a man I utterly despise to take part in a ceremony I didn't even agree with, I changed the subject.

"I stabbed Gippal."

"Good gods Rikku – did ya kill him?!"

I rolled my eyes.

"I wish. No Pops – I just intensified his butt crack."

I was rather proud of that descriptive imagery. But I received no acolytes for the feat.

"Oh. Dat all? I was about to congratulate you on a job well done, too."

Silence.

"Well don't I get some sort of brownie points for slashing his butt in two?"

"…It was already in two, Rikku. How else would his boyfriend manage to get up in there?"

"Okay. Pops. Ew. Like, majorly. Ew."

"Yeah, dat's wut you say now. Wait until tomorrow. You'll be quoting me on it."

"Will not."

Yeah. I probably would. It was a decent line, now that I think about it.

Probably accurate, too.

"Just remind him to bend over every once in a while, yeah? Show him who's boss. Just like I taught ya."

"To sexually exploit my enemies?"

"…Sumthin' like that. I kinda forget. But it sounds like sumthin' I would say, now don't it?"

"Totally."

And they wonder where I get it from.

Pause.

"Why are we talkin' again?"

"It's what fathers and daughters do, Pops. Converse. Occasionally."

"We could converse just fine if ya came back home."

"I will, don't worry."

"Yeah? That's what you said last time, and then you went out and started up that concubine of yours. You're probably recruiting for a new one right now, as we speak. Gods know Yuna won't be able to return, what with her baby poppin' goodness and all."

"…I'm turning off the Comm. Sphere now."

"Wait – I ain't done wit ya! Don't you touch that button little missy – I said don't ya dare touch – "

Dial. Dial. Buzz. Twerp. Bing. Boink. Dial. Dial.

So much for that.

But for the life of me, where the hell was Brother? And Buddy? Did they crash into Mt. Gagazet or something? (A possible option, now that I think about it.)

"Where's my brother?" I wondered out loud, hearing footsteps behind me and rightfully assuming it was everyone's favorite little man whore of the century.

"Probably out getting laid. Gods know that's what I'd be doing if I finally got rid of you."

I didn't try to initiate eye contact. I might have barfed.

"You wouldn't bother to get rid of me, Gippal. You'd just lock me in the broom closet."

"Actually, that's where I was planning on doing it…"

I didn't bother to point out the lack of logistics concerning a broom closet and its severe impediment to dexterity. Even a virgin knows that. Seriously.

It's like some fetish held among all young males of the world. Must do it in a broom closet. And where, I ask, is the romance in that? Answer: there is none. Kind of like the kitchen table.

(You _eat_ off that thing, for gods' sake! Buddy would have a heart attack.)

(Then again, he's anal enough to do it in the bed, and nowhere else.)

(I'm all up for a little adventure – but not the kitchen table or the broom closet.)

(Why are we discussing this?)

"Get some new pants, Cyclops?"

"Does it look like I got new pants?"

I risked a glance over my bare naked shoulder to see that, indeed, Gippal had finally altered his color scheme to black instead of purple. Now he looked reasonably heterosexual.

I should get a Noble Peace Prize for inspiring this feat.

He actually looked…well…hot.

Ahem. I mean temperature wise, of course. Humid mornings in Kilika. Always has and always will be. Right? Right.

"The boat leaves in three hours," Gippal pressed on, his left hip characteristically jutting to the side. He seemed to perform the latter whenever there was a pause in the conversation. Gippal doesn't seem to take well to silences. Unless he's flying his stupid ship. Then he's all serious business.

"You think it's gonna take us three hours to get back to the docks?"

No answer.

"Well," I began, pondering. "With you it might…"

I received another glare, though it was a gossamer version, and therefore really didn't bother me, as I stood up, modest pants and all, and tagged along a hesitating aeropilot who was at home with the clouds, just not with the ocean.

"I'm practically a nun compared to these other girls," I pointed out as we approached the edge of the jungle.

"Yeah, definitely," came the scoff. "I can see your string thong poking through your short shorts. Nuns dig that. I bet they all wear neon yellow garments under their robes."

There was a pause in which we both recovered from at the exact same moment.

"We should totally ask Shelinda."

And – good gods – we actually laughed.

o-o-o-o

Author's Notes

o-o-o-o

Hopefully the length of this chapter will make up for the insane amount of time it took to compose it.

You can blame Gray once again for the update. She ventured off to college recently and this was her going away present.

Never mind that it was, like, two months late.

At any rate, I want to thank you all for these very helpful and very kind reviews you are all taking the time to leave. It means a lot that not only do you read my chicken scratch, you feel compelled to share your opinions, and I am truly grateful.

I was doing really well with review replies (a habit I am still getting into, for I started ficing before that option was available and therefore have a tendency to forget that such things are possible) until I went on an official NONSENSE hiatus. And now I forget who I replied to and who I did not. I think I got around seventy five percent of you. The other twenty five percent have permission to brandish me with pitch forks.

(Honestly, though, thank you one and all for the comments. I do truly appreciate such displays of benevolency. It makes me all warm and tingly inside.)

So, Luca is up next!

(And, in case you were wondering, yes, Auron's words were meant to parallel certain other male members of the story. Gee, wonder who.)

: Showers everyone in a plethora of cookies! :


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